


Pines and Vampires

by Feech



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Multi, Polyamory, Responsible Nonmonogamy, Romance, Shapeshifting Vampires, Sibling Incest, Slow Burn, Tattooed Dipper, Twincest, Vampires, Werelynx "Lazy" Susan Wentworth, petrification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2020-10-20 22:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 81,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20683070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feech/pseuds/Feech
Summary: ********Dipper is in love with his sister—but that's a secret. The perfect way to keep it a secret is to have her name tattooed on his back.********





	1. Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to my husband [Channing](https://scrivnarium.wordpress.com/) for the beta read.

********

Dipper dropped his backpack on the floor of the sub-basement lab. Ford looked up from turning a chunk of log over a glowing, hot disc, using modified timber tongs. "Dipper! Good. You're back. Is it summer again already?"

"No, Grunkle Ford, it's barely the beginning of autumn. I dropped out of high school and came back to study with you."

"Is Mabel upstairs?"

"Mabel's not coming."

"What?"

"She said she didn't want to come."

"Why not?"

"I have no idea."

"Haven't you asked her?"

"Of course!" Dipper flung his arms wide. "She keeps coming up with reasons, but they're dumb ones and obviously not true. Stuff like school structure, and discipline, and other words that sound like teachers put ideas into her head." He folded his arms and kicked at his backpack. "She almost acted as if she was afraid to come to Gravity Falls."

"That's strange," said Ford, as the log melted into streaky beige and black goo. "What could she have to be afraid of?"

"I have no idea." Dipper frowned and shook off his frustration. "What can I help with?"

"Today is melting day! It's a lot of fun, so I'm glad you could join me. Here, let me get you started with melting a few beams of light."

********

The attic was large and silent. 

Soos had duct-taped mosquito netting over the most recent hole in the triangular window. It had been accidentally broken—grappling hook, mini golf—repeatedly in Dipper and Mabel's first summer at the Mystery Shack, and again this past summer, after they had graduated from middle school. The window wasn't plain glass any longer. Dipper and Mabel had found a stained glass artist who attended the flea market each week, and he routinely patched their window in whatever hodgepodge of colors he liked. Other than the piece of screen, it hadn't yet been repaired from Mabel's grappling hook incident of the past summer, so clear moonlight shone through the broken spot.

The first few nights, Dipper couldn't get to sleep in his own bed, not when Mabel's was empty. He moved his blanket and pillow over to her bed, where, if he tipped his head back, he could see the moon through the broken place. It made him smile, thinking of Mabel and her trusty grappling hook. He curled up again and fell asleep in the patch of white light.

********

Dipper knew Mabel would call him every evening. He sat on the couch with his books after supper, so he could answer the phone on the end table without moving. He picked up halfway through the first ring.

"That you, Dipdip?"

"It's me. Hey, Mabel."

"How's it going, studying with Grunkle Ford? Is it good?"

"Yeah, it's good." Dipper wiggled to dislodge a heavy book that was hurting his knee. "How are you doing at the old regular school?"

"I dunno. Dad isn't as good as you are at helping me with my homework."

"I can help you over the phone."

"I should just send you my papers, you fill them in and mail them back!"

"I'm not going to do that."

"Did you go over to Gravity Falls High School for their Homecoming?"

"I guess I missed it."

Mabel was quiet for a few seconds. "Nobody asked me to Homecoming."

Dipper's jaw tensed and his fingers clenched on his note-taking pen. "I would have taken you, if I'd stayed in school."

"I know you would have. You've always been my back-up plan. I don't know what to do without you."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I went to the dance anyway. I tried to hang out with some friends, but they paired off with boys."

"Did you dance with anybody?"

"Yeah—no boys asked me, so eventually I started asking girls to dance with me. One of them said yes. Maybe we’ll be friendly at school now. I don't know. The music was too loud, anyway. Middle school dances were more fun."

"Middle school in general was more fun."

"Yeah. I don't know ... I suppose high school will pick up."

"What do you like about it so far?"

"Nothing yet ... but give it time. Mom says it's an adjustment period. But not seeing you at school, for a kind of pick-me-up, to let me know I'm in the right place ..."

Dipper gave the end of his ballpoint pen a few doubtful clicks. "Maybe I should come back."

Mabel let out a long sigh that ended on a little squeak. "Not this semester. I'll be fine. It takes some time adjusting, like Mom said."

"Adjusting, shmadjusting. You should ditch that joint and come up here. I don't understand what good that school is doing you."

"Well, it's not doing me any good yet, but maybe it'll kick in. Then I'll have fun and get good grades. That's what everyone always says: have fun and get good grades! Like you can do both at the same time."

********

The fall winds picked up and rain came in at the taped-on mosquito netting over the attic window. The good-natured stained glass artist who understood that nobody at the Mystery Shack respected nice things came and took the window and repaired it. He helped Soos and Dipper re-set the window in the frame, and made sure it opened and latched smoothly in the middle.

Afterward Dipper went down to the gift shop, where Stan crooked a finger at him. "Dipper, c'mere. I got you something."

Dipper sidled warily toward the counter. "What is it?"

He perked up and approached more readily when Stan thunked a pile of used books onto the counter. "I swiped you a set of the freshman textbooks from Gravity Falls High School. Learn these."

"Uh ... thank you, but ... why? Grunkle Ford is teaching me."

"Ford'll teach you super advanced whatchamaphysics and, I dunno, smartology. I'm sure you'll be terrific at it. Meanwhile, overwhelming evidence points to you not being able to tie your own shoe."

Dipper looked down. He sighed, took the pile of high school textbooks up to the attic and dug in. They were fast reading, with large print. Not enough work to take his mind off of Mabel's absence.

He switched to one of the books Ford had given him. It smelled dusty and the edges of its cover were wrinkled. Some of the pages were stained in various liquid colors, with fingerprints here and there, plus notes in the margins. Dipper tried to decipher the notes, imagined Ford writing them, wondered what had been happening in Ford’s life at the time.

Dipper was half-aware of Stan coming up the stairs, and remained deeply involved in reading when Stan opened the attic bedroom door. "Dipper. I need you to do something about your sister."

"Why, what's she done now?"

Stan put his finger in the middle of Dipper's book and pushed it down, away from his face. "I need you to call her on the phone and make her come and live at the Mystery Shack. You can't leave the kid in sunny California with responsible adults. It's not fair to her."

"Believe me, I had no intention of leaving her there. She was almost packed to go. Mom and Dad had already bought her bus ticket. Waddles kept trying to open the door to his travel cage for the bus."

"So what made her cancel?"

"It was nothing I did. Please don't look at me that way, Grunkle Stan."

"What happened, exactly?"

Dipper sighed and let the book slide onto the bed. "First off, something that Grunkle Ford taught me this past summer made me too good at math. Which meant I got into a big argument in class with the math teacher. He told me to stay after class. So after class, I explained it the way Grunkle Ford explained it to me, except, you know, simplified for a high school math teacher. We had a really great, fun math discussion. Then my teacher said, 'This is too advanced for the classroom.' He said we had a lot to get through, and we couldn't have discussions like that with the group, that we didn't have time.

"I didn't make it the rest of the school day. I quit in the middle of history class and texted Mabel to meet me outside as soon as she could. She texted me back to ask what was wrong, and I said, 'Nothing that Grunkle Ford can't fix.'"

"Huh! What about Grunkle Stan?"

"You fix things, too, Grunkle Stan."

"Darn right. So what happened with Mabel?"

"She came to meet me between classes. I told her to get all her stuff out of her locker, even the decorations. Empty everything out. I said I was calling Dad. 'We're quitting school and moving to Gravity Falls.' That's what I said. She spun right around and went to her locker and came back carrying all her stuff.

"She started packing that night, to come up here. I got all ready, and I found her stalled out in her room, and she said that she'd forgotten that she needed cold-weather clothes instead of all summer stuff. So I said I'd help her pack. I asked her what she needed, but she just kind of moped around. Then she asked me a really stupid question."

"Yeah? What was that?"

"She said, 'You don't need me to go with you, right?'"

"And you told her you did need her," Stan said decisively.

"I don't know what all we said. The conversation got dumber after that."

Stan sat silently on the corner of Dipper's bed for some time. Dipper didn't have a pen to click, so he touched his fingertips to his thumb, in sequence. At last Stan spoke. "Hmm. She's at least coming for Christmas, right?"

"Christmas is a given."

"Has she specifically said she's coming?"

"No, but we'll obviously be spending Christmas together."

"Call her and check. I will stand by the door while you go downstairs, and I will follow you down. You get on the phone and call your sister and check."

"Okay, I'll do it now."

"Yeah, you will. Leave her alone at home for one Christmas, the next thing you know, it turns into a ten-year separation."

Stan loomed and watched with narrowed eyes while Dipper got his sister on the phone. "You're coming for Christmas, right?"

Her pause was a little too long.

"Mabel!"

"Yes! Yeah, I'm coming for Christmas."

"Yeah," Dipper said, relieved. "Yeah, you'd better."

"Does Grunkle Ford plan on giving you a break for Christmas?"

"I guess so. We haven't talked about it."

"You won't be learning and doing experiments the whole time?"

"Well, I gotta come out of the lab for fresh air and eggnog sometime. Plus, I have personal reading to do. So, yeah, I'll do things besides experiments, you know I will. We can watch the Christmas movies on TV."

"Yeah! That sounds great."

"Why don't you come up now?"

Mabel groaned. "I can't. I'm trying to pass finals."

Dipper snorted. "No such thing as finals here. Grunkle Ford just quizzes me whenever he thinks of it. It's great."

"Yeah ... sounds great. I gotta go. Waddles is at the bedroom door—he wants his apple juice."

"I'll let you go, then. Love you."

"Love you, too, Dippin'sauce."

********

Dipper and Soos caulked and stuffed rags in cracks all over the attic in time for Christmas. Dipper's bed was in the warmest corner of the attic, by the chimney. He lay in Mabel's bed for half an hour each time the wind changed, to check comfort on her side of the room.

Three nights before Christmas, Dipper waited in the hallway by the porch door. He couldn't see out the windows through the sleet, and kept imagining he heard, through the wind, the bus grinding along the road and stopping near the Shack. He repeatedly opened the door, saw nothing, closed it again and shivered until he got warm.

Finally he felt sure he saw bus lights moving across the windows and opened the door again. No bus and no Mabel—had it stopped by the gift shop? He ran through the Shack and got to that entrance just as the bell on the door jangled, and Mabel, bundled up and covered in sleet, beamed at him from under her hood.

He skidded to a stop in front of her and she threw her arms wide, hugged him, and rocked him side to side. "Dipper!"

Dipper chuckled and hugged her back, kept her in place with his hands on her sides, and pulled back to see her face. Mabel threw back her hood. The Christmas lights from the multicolored string across a rafter of the gift shop glinted green, red, and yellow off of her brown hair. Her big, brown eyes reflected the lights and twinkled on their own power, her cheeks shone red, and her smile was one of breathless delight.

Dipper's eyes followed a line of shine in her hair, down over her ear, and he started to run a strand of it over his finger.

"Is there something wrong with my hair?" Mabel gave him an anxious glance and picked at the strand Dipper had ribboned over his finger. "Is something caught in it?"

"No. No. There's nothing wrong with it. It looks nice. You look great."

"Thank you!"

"Are you ... jingling?"

"Yep!" Mabel opened her coat to reveal a garish medium-green sweater covered in red pleather reindeer silhouettes and a string of large jingle bells on a strip of red pleather around the middle.

Dipper opened the gift shop door to check the porch. "Where's Waddles?"

"Mom said it wouldn't be practical to bring him for only a few days."

"I guess I was hoping—" Dipper stopped short of saying _hoping you'd stay_. He amended lamely, "—hoping you'd bring him along."

"I told Mom it was Christmas, and Waddles couldn't miss it, but she wouldn't let me. I promised to bring something back for him. He wants an all-day sucker. But what am I doing standing here? I gotta go kiss the Grunkles!"

Dipper swallowed. "Do, uh, do I get a kiss?"

"Sure!" Mabel leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. She tilted her head and waited.

"Oh—" Dipper saw what she meant. He returned the light kiss on the cheek.

Mabel began to fling her coat off, stopped with her arms in the sleeves behind her back, wiggled. "Dipper? My sweater bells are stuck in my coat."

"Here, let me help you."

"Thanks!" Mabel, free of her coat, speedily jingled toward the kitchen, but Stan was already coming to meet her.

"Here's my girl."

Mabel gave Stan a short but quality greeting cuddle, with promise of more hugs later, put in the code on the vending machine for the lab, and trotted down the steps to the elevator, shouting, "Merry Christmas, Grunkle Ford!"

Ford’s muffled voice came up from the basement lab: "Wait, Mabel! Don't come down here yet! I'll come to you."

A loud _pop_ sounded from the lab. Mabel backed up the steps, driven by a series of cracking noises, a whoosh, an explosion—the roar died down, followed by more popping noises and an ethereal shriek, then Ford pounded up the steps to the gift shop, covered in soot and smelling like charcoal. He held his arms open. "Mabel!"

"Grunkle Ford!" Mabel jingled into his arms. She came away from the hug with smudges on her cheek, her forehead, and her pleather reindeer.

"Sorry about the soot," said Ford.

"That's okay. It's like getting a Christmas hug from Santa Claus after he's come down the chimney."

"Stand back now." Ford headed back downstairs. "Dipper, come and help me catch this thing!"

"Be right down, Grunkle Ford!"

********


	2. Mabel and the Pink School

********

Supper was eggs and canned corned beef hash. Mabel begged Grunkle Stan to make her eggs as runny as possible while still technically frying them.

"I know how you like them cooked," said Stan.

Mabel's usual method of eating this meal was to poke the egg and run the yolk into the hash, mash it all up and devour it. She had gotten as far as breaking the yolks, and was slouching and poking at the middle of her cooling plate with her fork, while the eggs congealed.

Stan gestured with his fork. "Mabel, you're breaking my heart. Why don't you stay here with us when Christmas is over?"

"Yes, stay!" said Ford. "We'll be studying Advanced Technobabble."

Mabel gave him a weak smile. She sat a little straighter. "Grunkle Stan, couldn't you be my teacher?"

"Kid, I don't 'teach'. I 'lead astray'. Apparently there's a difference."

Mabel hunched again, thumbed a line of woodgrain in the table. "Grunkle Ford, don't you guys ever study things like ... art? Scrapbooking?"

"Yes, of course," said Ford. "Your brother is learning scientific illustration."

"You'd probably be better at it than I am," said Dipper.

Mabel didn't look at him. "Maybe we could learn ... um ..." She shrank in on herself. "Remedial math?"

"Remedial math?" Ford slapped a hand down on the table. "There's no such thing! Math is math!"

Mabel hunched in her seat, looking as if she grieved deeply over some detail of the wood grain. Dipper thought she looked as if she might cry. "Yeah ..." she looked sideways up at Grunkle Ford, and gave a nervous chuckle. "Gotta love that math."

Dipper and Mabel lay in their beds the next afternoon. Dipper was reading, Mabel had her chin on a pillow and heels in the air, and was making silly noises with her lips.

"Why don't I teach you math?" Dipper hefted a book. "I can take what Grunkle Ford teaches me and dumb it down ... for ..." he winced. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

"It's okay." Mabel dropped her legs and sprawled on her back. "I'm not sure if high school stinks that badly or if I'm bad at high school. Probably I'm just not used to it yet."

"Trust me, Mabel. I went to that school for six days. It stinks."

"I don't know if it's that bad. I think it's just me. Wendy told us about Gravity Falls High School, and it matches up with the one I'm in."

"I'm not saying it's a bad school as far as schools go, but that doesn't make it any better." Dipper stopped what he was doing and put his legs over the side of his bed so he was facing Mabel. "I'm ... I don't want to watch you go back there."

Stan yelled up the stairs: "You kids wanna go get some pie?"

"That'll cheer you up, right?" Dipper was troubled enough about Mabel to doubt his own ability to be cheered.

"I guess," sighed Mabel. "It'll be a good reason to wear another Christmas sweater." She had packed five.

The four Pines sat in a row at the diner counter and Lazy Susan dealt four slices of caramel pecan molasses pie. She added whipped cream to all four, and holiday sprinkles to Mabel's.

"That looks festive," said Stan, and Lazy Susan shook sprinkles onto his slice as well.

"Do you take coffee yet, Mabel?"

Mabel was puddled across the counter with her hair spread over her wide Christmas sweater arms.

Susan repeated, "Mabel, do you take coffee yet?"

Mabel kept her face down in her arms on the counter. "Black, one orange juice. Three marshmallow Christmas Peeps."

"Snowmen or trees?"

"Snowmen, please." Mabel was muffled by her sweater-clad arms. She lifted her head weakly when Susan brought her coffee. "Thanks, Lazy Susan, you're a lifesaver."

"Are you here to stay, Mabel?"

"No." Mabel sipped her coffee without looking up. "I'm here for Christmas."

"Tell Mabel what your high school was like, Lazy Susan," said Stan. "Mabel's having a hard time in school."

"I'm sure my experience was different from Mabel's. I went to a one-room schoolhouse. There were only a few of us, and we all knew each other."

"I suppose it's all shut down," said Mabel.

"No, it's still there. It's still a school. Sometimes I drive the Greasy's van up there and teach baking and cooking. When I was a pupil there, my dad was the teacher, and the school had nine students."

"You only had nine students in your whole class?" asked Mabel.

"We had nine students in the whole Quaintsville school. I was the only one in my class."

"Susan. Lynx tip." Stan pointed at the stiff tuft of black hair showing from Susan's hairdo. Susan began to fix her hair over her ear to cover the fur.

"Wait! Let me pet it first." Mabel reached and Susan leaned across the counter. Mabel played with the tuft, then Susan fixed her hair.

"Shapeshifting werelynxes gotta be ever-vigilant," said Stan.

"Most people seeing that would just think I'm a hairy old woman," said Susan.

Ford said, "Nonsense, Susan. You look very youthful."

"Thank you, dear."

Stan chuckled. "Notice he didn't say you're not hairy."

"She is hairy," Ford protested. "What was I supposed to say? I don't have your experience giving compliments to women."

"Stan, don't tease him." Lazy Susan leaned across the counter, pushed Ford's bangs out of the way and kissed him on the forehead.

Stan put down his empty coffee mug. "Mabel, let's ditch the nerds at the Mystery Shack and go have a look at the Quaintsville School."

"Okay," said Mabel. She slid droopily off of her diner stool.

It was over an hour's drive around and up the mountain. Mabel found a rock and roll station on the radio and then talked over it. She was chipper by the time Stan pulled onto a narrow gravel road on level ground at the top of the mountain. The forest thinned into dormant fields and meadows. Stan pulled up alongside a mowed grass ditch. A handful of venerable pine trees seemed to reach the low grey sky. Behind them stood a long, low building with broad siding in faded pink.

Mabel stared at it for some time. "Is that the school?"

"Yeah, that's the Quaintsville school."

"The siding is pink."

"Want to meet the teacher?"

"The teacher is here during Christmas vacation?"

"He lives there." Stan nodded to a log cabin set back from the school. "Watch the ditch; it's muddy. There's a path."

Stan knocked on the door of the log cabin. It was opened by a man wearing a chunky sweater with reindeer and candy canes knitted into the pattern. He had deep smile lines.

"Hey, Micky," said Stan.

"Why, hello, Stan. What brings you all the way up here?"

"This is my grand-niece, Mabel. She wanted to see your school. Lazy Susan was telling her about how she used to come here, way back when Wentworth was the teacher." To Mabel, he said, "His name is Miguel, but everyone just calls him Micky. Except you, 'cause you're a kid. You have to call him Mr. Hernandez."

Mabel performed a little curtsey with her Christmas sweater. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Hernandez."

"Charmed." Mr. Hernandez produced a keyring from beside the door. "Let's open up the school for you."

The schoolroom smelled slightly stale from being closed for Christmas vacation. "Here is the restroom, and the water fountain. We bring our own cold lunches, but there is a microwave in case you bring a burrito or something of that nature."

"I like burritos," said Mabel.

"Hey, who doesn't?" said Stan.

Mabel opened, looked inside of, and shut the microwave. "Latches nicely," she commented.

"Yes, it keeps the burritos contained quite well. On days when Susan Wentworth comes up to give us a baking class, we all go back to the teacherage and use my kitchen and have lunch there. Sometimes I bring something fun for snack time from home. The smaller children have a scheduled snack time, so we all have snack time.

"This is our sticker filing cabinet." It was covered in overlapped stickers, aged and new. Mr. Hernandez pulled open a drawer. "We have stickers filed according to year and subject, left from previous generations of Quaintsville students and teachers, and new ones which I've bought, as well. So there's a good selection for our sticker board. Some of the stickers are so old they don't have any adhesive, and you have to apply them to the poster board with a glue stick."

He presented a large piece of poster board on the wall, in a frame made out of bare wood trim. "This is where we place stickers for our learning milestones. You can opt out if you don't care for stickers; you can see that our middle schoolers tend to prefer that I write something for them, instead. But high schoolers almost always opt back in to selecting their own stickers. It seems that a sticker is more fun than me writing 'Good job' or 'Excellent' in neon marker."

Mabel spoke up. "Mr. Hernandez, what if a student needed both a sticker and a personal note written in neon marker?"

"I could accommodate that student."

"I see."

Mr. Hernandez led the way to a folding table containing three ancient desktop computers with cathode ray tube monitors. "The Quaintsville school has no cell phone or Internet access. Our three classroom desktop computers are terribly outdated. The only way children get up to date computer science instruction while attending here is if they have relatives who are exceedingly advanced in the field and cobble together their own better than state of the art equipment, and can help them at home.

"Back here is where we ask the high schoolers to sit during class." The desks were antique, of blond wood. The benches were gleaming, almost black, and looked as if they came from a different, even older set.

"We ask the high school kids to sit in the back, so the younger kids can sit nearer my desk, and nearer the heater in winter. It really helps for the bigger kids to wear colorful alpaca-hair legwarmers on cold days. They knit their own. The kids' parents and guardians pay for the yarn, but it's not very expensive; we get it wholesale from a local alpaca farmer. Our high school students spend the smaller children's quiet or nap times knitting."

Mabel made a quiet, thoughtful sound. "Theoretically, what does someone have to do to enroll in this school?"

"You have to live in the Quaintsville district for most of the year. I can show you a map." Mr. Hernandez unrolled one down over the chalkboard. "It's mostly self-explanatory. The bold, red question mark here stands for the Mystery Shack. It's the last dwelling inside the Quaintsville district borders, directly on the other side of the treacherous mountain pass. You must have driven quite a long way around to get here today."

Mabel stroked her chin. "Interesting. Mr. Hernandez, this has all been very informative. Nice meeting you."

She offered her hand, and the teacher shook it. "It's been nice meeting you too, Mabel. Thank you for stopping by and having a look at our school."

Mabel trudged through the mud back to Stan's car, got in, and fastened her seatbelt. "Grunkle Stan. We need to have a talk."

"What about?"

"Grunkle Stan. We need to talk about that school."

Stan shrugged. "What about it?"

"Grunkle Stan. It is pink. It is a pink school."

Stan grunted. "But beyond that, what does it have that would interest you?"

Mabel opened her mouth with a breath of indignation, but before she could answer, she saw his expression. "Grunkle Stan! You're teasing me!"

"Haha! Got you."

********

Ford knew the woods behind the Mystery Shack perfectly. He led his family over some tumbled chunks of rock to where a narrow trail rose steeply up into deep, dark pine woods. "Quaintsville is a few miles up that way."

After supper, Mabel put her coat on and stood out in the drizzly dull evening, staring up at the pass which Grunkle Ford had shown them.

Dipper came out. "Mabel! I've been looking for you."

Somewhere in the gloom, a wolf howled. Mabel's gaze remained fixed on the path shadowed by so many pine trees that the blackness had a green cast. "Dipper. It is my destiny for my school dress code to require alpaca leg-warmers."

"We'll make it happen for you."

"Maybe I could take a lantern and buy some good boots, and hike it."

"If you decide to do that," said Dipper, "I'll come with you. We've been in darker woods than that before."

"Not on purpose," said Mabel. "Maybe Grunkle Stan could teach me how to drive his car, and let me borrow it on school days, and I could go around the mountain."

Dipper put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a little jostle. "Go home. Get your stuff together, bring Waddles back with you. By the time you get everything settled, me and Grunkle Ford will have figured out a solution for you. We'll get you to that school."

********

At the back kitchen door of the Mystery Shack, Dipper and Ford unveiled their solution to Mabel's problem of how to get to Quaintsville.

"Oh my gosh! You guys!" Mabel made delighted fists near her cheeks.

"You have a light on the helmet," said Ford, "It's a good way to light up the trail, because it illuminates what you are looking at, and what you are looking at is what you are heading for. If you light up some rocks or a cliff, swerve."

"Of course, it's best to have lights on the handlebars, too," said Dipper, patting the new, pink mountain bike. "We put one on each side and one in the center. And one on the basket. And a few others here and there."

The bike had three wheels. The basket sat low to the ground, between the rear wheels. Mabel immediately boosted Waddles into it. "He fits! It's perfect."

"Wendy suggested a waterproof poncho with a lining," said Dipper. He handed Mabel a folded red, black, and blue plaid poncho. "Actually, she picked it out. We just paid for it."

"You've done so much for me. Um ... do you have a map, or maybe we could hike up together and mark the trail?"

"Got you covered, sweetheart," said Ford. A thick black cable snaked across the backyard, clamped to lawn furniture and the clothesline posts. Ford stepped across the cable and went to a pole that had sprung up near the back kitchen door in Mabel's absence. The pole looked like a yard light, with a wire running inside the Shack, and had a huge, steel electrical box at its base. Ford opened the box and revealed an enormous switch handle. He grasped the handle and shoved it down—ka-CHUNK. A hum and a buzz seemed to swirl around the backyard. The black cable jumped against its clamps. It droned and crackled, and the noise flowed toward the tumbled stones beyond which lay Mabel's way to school.

Dipper smiled at Mabel's wide, startled eyes. "Ominous, isn't it?"

She smiled back. "Hums always seem ominous around Grunkle Ford."

Ford pointed toward the forest. "I've powered up the trail lights. This pole has a lamp at the top, too, so you can find your way to the back of the Mystery Shack if it's dark when you come out of the woods. You can see the beginning of the trail from here." A white glow arose in the woods, one round lamp at a time, beginning at the foot of the trail. Two lamp posts were visible, and beyond them the glow from more showed among the trees, weaving up the mountain along the trail.

"The offshoot paths and switchbacks can get confusing," said Dipper. "This way you can always get back on the right trail. We browned out the town the first time we turned it all on, so now Grunkle Ford is powering them off a generator he adapted to the buried alien ship."

"Dipper worked hard to help me," said Ford. "I'm afraid I might have overworked him."

"Nah, you were toughening me up. Anyway, I wanted to do this for Mabel."

Mabel threw her arms around Dipper. "Thank you so much! Sorry about your muscles!"

"I'm good."

Mabel went to Ford and snuggled up to him; he ruffled her hair as he might Dipper's. When he took his hand away strands of her hair stuck out in all directions around her headband.

The path lamps buzzed, hummed and gave off periodic snapping and spitting sounds.

********

Mabel had been going to the Quaintsville one-room school for a couple of weeks. She said good-bye to all ten other students, and to Mr. Hernandez, on a grey, drizzly afternoon, and snapped her fingers for Waddles to get into the mountain bike basket. She had brought Waddles to meet everyone.

Mabel rode her bike out of the stand of pines around the school, along a narrow gravel path, across a muddy rut onto a gravel road, and onto a gravel tractor drive that led to a sodden grass track between two crop fields. The grass was mowed in summer. Now it was dormant, but still it held the dirt in the track together and made it bikeable in the middle, between the deep grooves made by tractor tires. At the end of the field the track turned off, the woods began, and Mabel rode straight into them. The trail under the trees was hard-packed dirt. Drizzle began to pelt her face before she entered the woods, where it was broken by the pines into smaller drops.

The trail lights had not yet come on for the night. The clouded, cold late sunlight turned everything the same greyish green. Mabel turned on her headlamp and headlights, shining white highlights on leaves and pine needles. Her bike tires cut through a skin of water on the hard trail. She rounded a curve and picked up speed, and took her feet off the pedals in a hurry when a big shape loomed on the path before her.

It was a blacktail buck, bigger than any she'd ever seen, and a weird color, light grey, almost white. Her headlamp made little glints spark all along his side, as if he had glitter in his fur. He was standing sideways on, head turned, gazing over her head with pale, blank eyes. He took up almost the whole path. There wasn't much room to go around.

Mabel waited for the buck to step off the path. He had surely come along some game trail that crossed the people path, and would go on his way in a moment. But he did not. She shouted at him to shoo, and he didn't so much as flick an ear, nor look down at her.

Mabel biked slowly closer, eyeing the enormous antlers. "Go on, get off the path, you can't just stand there all night."

Waddles hopped out of the basket and snuffled on the path. "Waddles, come here." Waddles grunted and rooted in the undergrowth at the edge of the trail. Mabel eyed the deer sideways and slid off her bike, grabbed Waddles around the middle, steered him around despite his oinking protests, and boosted him back into the basket. "There could be predators out there. Stay in the basket."

Mabel had supposed the deer would walk off during the disturbance, but it was still there, and had not moved. She had never heard of any deer behaving like this. Her stomach gave an uncertain twist, and a chill went through her. She wheeled her bike cautiously forward and wiped a little drizzle out of her eyes. It was stone. The deer was made of stone. The glinting in its fur was from bits of shiny stuff in whatever kind of stone this was. Where a blacktail buck would normally have dark fur on his forehead, this one had a patch of lichen. It was also spotted with lichen on its shoulders.

"It must be a vampire," Mabel said. Waddles grunted noncommitally.

It did not surprise Mabel that a deer could be a vampire. She knew that people who became vampires got the power to change into animals. Each vampire could turn into one kind of animal. She had never known of a vampire that could turn into a deer, but she was pretty sure there could be one.

The trouble was that even though the colors of the forest were muddied by darkness, the sun wasn't all the way down yet. Vampires, in daylight, turned to stone—as long as they carried a handful of consecrated ground with them, to prevent their burning in the sunlight. Mabel could not see where this deer was wearing anything that could hold a bit of dirt. She would have expected him to wear some kind of collar or antler-decoration to carry his dirt with him, and he wore nothing. And even if he were wearing his consecrated ground somewhere on his body, a vampire turned to stone at sunrise would not be able to turn back to his normal self until sundown, so how had he gotten across the trail, when he hadn't been there when Mabel rode up in the morning? Fear leapt up inside her. She asked aloud, faintly, "Am I on the wrong path? Should I turn around?"

As if in answer, Grunkle Ford's trail lamps came on with a resounding hum. Floods of white light blanketed the dark greens and browns of the needles and leaves and made the drizzle glitter. Mabel was on the right trail, and the question of how the deer vampire had come to be there remained open. The sun would go down all the way sooner or later, and the vampire would wake up. Mabel thought she should bike a little off the edge of the path, to get around the buck, and get home. She sat hunched forward, ready to start, but she and the bike remained motionless. _When it gets to be night and he does turn back to a live body, Waddles and I will be the first source of blood he sees_, she thought.

She'd never make it down to the Mystery Shack if the vampire weren't friendly, and if he wanted to catch her. Could she make it back across the fields to Mr. Hernandez's house?

"He's probably a friendly vampire," Mabel said slowly. "He has a nice face. Deer are always so cute." She decided, "We're just going to go for it, Waddles. We're gonna go right up to him, and ride around him, and get home." She pedaled toward the buck's rear, where it looked like there was barely room to fit her bike around, if she ran one back wheel in the scrub off the edge of the trail.

The deer lowered its stone head and neck and looked at her face.

"Aah!" Mabel shielded her face and took her feet off the pedals. She grabbed the handlebars again and stared. The deer was still solid stone, but it slowly, smoothly moved its head and neck as if it were alive. It stepped quietly on its stone legs into the woods and disappeared.

Mabel took several loud, panting breaths before she could move again.


	3. Vintage Vampire

********

Mabel usually liked how talkative the pines were when their needles brushed and combed the wind. It made her feel as if she had company on her bike ride. But in the dark, the rushing noises made it difficult to hear any ominous sounds coming from other sources. The buck vampire should not have been able to move, not when looking like that. Vampires came alive from their stone forms, after dark. Then they looked like living beings, not like walking statues.

She strained to listen to a rustling in the underbrush on the side of the trail. Underbrush often rustled in the woods. Little animals of all kinds would scurry around in there, darting out of sight as she biked past. Sometimes larger animals made a crashing noise farther off the trail, but Mabel had never seen nor heard anything very big right near the trail, until the strange stone deer this afternoon. She had never been this late going home, either—the deer mystery had delayed her.

Whatever was causing the rustling kept up alongside her bike, out of sight. She aimed her headlamp in the direction of the sound, and it went silent. She stepped on a pedal, and thought she heard the rustling again.

Waddles squealed, scrambled out of the basket, and darted into the woods.

"Waddles! What are you doing? Come back!"

Two grizzled, hairy animals dashed across the path behind Mabel's bike, following Waddles. Mabel couldn't get a good look at them, but she had a good idea what they were. She breathed, "No."

A tree branch bounced behind her, and a tawny missile sailed over the bike and slid into the woods behind the coyotes. Mabel screamed, "No!" She grabbed a detachable lantern from amongst the many lights on the bike and ran into the darkness.

Waddles squealed deafeningly, the two coyotes snarled and the panther squalled, in a tangling wheel of furry bodies. Waddles scooted out from under the mass of predators and came toward Mabel. "Waddles, follow me, quick, back to the bike."

One of the coyotes yelped and fled the battle. It ran away with its tail tucked. The panther's growls grew deeper and more menacing. The second coyote rolled out of the fight and limped away. The panther was all by itself. It fixed its eyes on Waddles. He cowered against Mabel's leg.

"No! Bad panther!" Mabel threw her lantern at the big cat. The lantern rolled on the ground, the panther leapt straight at Waddles, Waddles let out a small oink, and Mabel covered her eyes.

The panther gave an angry scream. Mabel peeked out between her fingers and saw what looked like a flapping white ghost, holding the furious panther tightly to the ground. Waddles stood shivering in fear and confusion.

It sounded as if the ghost might have said something, then the flapping whiteness turned to solid stone.

"What? What just happened?"

The panther groaned and grumbled, but it was still held fast to the ground. Mabel began to piece together what was happening. The white thing wasn't a ghost. It was a white poncho, on a vampire—a real vampire, this time. The vampire had turned to stone, and his clothes turned with him. But what had turned him to stone? The sun had to be down by now, or this vampire couldn't have been walking around in the forest to begin with.

From beneath the waves of petrified poncho, stone hands grasped the panther by its scruff and compelled it to lie on the ground, where it mumbled and complained. Mabel approached the vampire and found the panther had some reach with its foreclaws. She jumped back. From a distance she bent to look under the hood, and saw eyeglasses and a thin nose. She knew the face. "Argyle!"

Mabel thought of the light on her bike helmet. She took the helmet off and turned it away, so she could still see dimly but the light was not aimed on the vampire. The poncho cracked and grew soft, and stone flaked off the hands holding the panther. "Grunkle Ford must have scienced my headlamp. It worked like sunlight on poor Argyle. But Waddles, think what would have happened if he hadn't come along!"

The panther mumbled and yowled, flattened its ears and flipped its tail. Argyle spoke. "Leave the little hog alone. Now I'll let you go, and you'd better not turn around and bite me."

The panther stood and faced Argyle, showed its teeth and made a long, wet hiss at him, and sulked off among the trees.

Mabel ran into Argyle's arms. "Oh my gosh, thank you. Waddles, say thank you."

Argyle hugged Mabel. "No trouble, doll. The puma gave the coyotes something to think about, and I gave the puma something to think about. They won't bother your pig again."

"He's never going to school in the basket again! I'll only bring him with me if I get a ride around the pass from Lazy Susan, in the diner van. We have to hurry home, Waddles. The Grunkles and Dipper will be worried by this time." The drizzle was turning to rain. Drops pelted Mabel's poncho hood.

Argyle said, "The path is lit up like Christmas, if they celebrated Christmas on the surface of the sun. I'll have to see you down to the Mystery Shack from off the trail, where the lights can't touch me. This rain is fogging up my glasses, and even a little light reflection makes it worse."

On the way down, Mabel and Argyle raised their voices to be heard at a short distance, over the rain. "What were you doing up there? And what are you doing in Gravity Falls in winter? Did you say you were going to school?"

"I started at the Quaintsville school after Christmas."

"We'll be seeing more of you in Gravity Falls, then! That's swell."

Mabel told Argyle all about the stone deer. "Do you know who it was?"

"I don't know any vampires that turn into deer, but it could be a new one, or a visitor. Did he try to hurt you?"

"No, thank goodness. And he had a nice face."

Mabel heard Dipper's voice thinly calling her. Argyle said, "Your family's looking for you. I'll keep up with you until you actually meet them, and then I'll say goodnight."

"Oh, but Argyle, you can't leave, you have to come in and get dry, and let them thank you."

It was pouring, and where the woods thinned, close to the end of the trail, the water came down harder, with fewer pine needles to break it up. The path was solid, but the steep slope gave the sheeting water enough strength to lift the mountain bike's tires. Mabel slipped and slid, and tried walking the bike on the path while getting footing for herself on the edge of the trail. The water almost pulled the bike, and Waddles with it, out of her grasp, so she got back on and steered, sliding almost sideways down the path.

Blazing white light cut the rain at Mabel's eye level. "Mabel?"

"Grunkle Ford!"

The lantern light swept out of the way and she could see his face. His expression was grim, and the rain and light hid his eyes behind his glasses. He reached an arm out and strode toward her. Mabel jumped off the bike and ran, Waddles tight on her heels. Ford scooped Mabel up and carried her on his hip.

Dipper rushed to them, carrying a flashlight. "Is that her?"

Stan ran up from the Shack, wiping rain out of his eyes. "Is that her? Have you found her?"

Ford grinned. "Here she is!"

"We got her," said Dipper. "Why were you so late, Mabel? What happened? Grunkle Stan called the school, and Mr. Hernandez said you'd left on time."

"Waddles almost died! Argyle saved us."

"Who's Argyle?" Dipper asked.

"He's my friend, and a vampire. He couldn't come on the path. He says the lights are like sunlight to him."

"The lamps almost replicate daylight," Ford explained. "No creature of the night can get near you while they're on." He stopped at the back kitchen door, set Mabel on the stoop, and threw the enormous switch. The electric hum cut off. Rain dropping and running in rivulets made the only sound. Ford said cheerfully, "Okay, your friend can come out now."

Dipper objected, “Grunkle Ford, don’t you think—?”

Mabel interrupted. "Argyle! Come and get introduced."

Argyle, dripping, emerged from the shadows.

"Great-Uncles Ford and Stan, and Dipper—he's my twin—this is Argyle."

"Won't you come in?" said Ford.

Dipper stammered. “You’re inviting him in? But you don’t even know him. All we do know about him is that he’s a vampire.”

"Thanks for saving my niece's pig, and helping her get home," said Stan, to the vampire. "Have a Pitt Cola with us."

"I never drink ... cola. No actually I do, that sounds great, thanks." Argyle hung up his poncho in the kitchen. His shirt was plaid, and he had a buzz-cut with a half-inch sticking up on top, flat on the sides. He wore eyeglasses with vintage plastic frames in two tones: opaque brown on the top half, and translucent cream-soda tan on the bottom half.

Mabel put an extra chair at the table in the dining nook. Everyone had barely popped the tops on their sodas when Dipper asked, "So, Argyle, how old are you really?"

Mabel said, "Dipper, be ashamed. It's rude to ask a vampire his age."

"I don't mind," said Argyle. "I turned into a vampire in 1950."

"And how old were you then?"

"Nineteen. How old are you?"

"Fourteen. So is Mabel," Dipper added significantly.

By the time Argyle finished his cola, bowed to the Grunkles and said goodnight to Mabel, the rain had stopped dripping and turned to the splat of mushy sleet.

The Pines family had supper after Argyle departed. Mabel and Dipper did the dishes. Dipper washed, Mabel dried and put away.

"How long have you known Argyle?"

"A couple years."

"Does he have designs on you?"

Mabel stood on a chair to stick a saucer in its place in the cabinet. She twirled her forefingers together. "Maybe? He's only kissed me a couple times."

Dipper gripped the edge of the sink. "A dead guy tried to kiss you?"

Mabel got down from the chair and took up the dish towel. "Undead, and he tried not to kiss me."

"Tell me exactly what he did to you."

"I asked him to kiss me. The first summer you and I came here. I told him I might never have another chance to be kissed by a vampire. He gave me a kiss, and said that he hoped I would get another chance to be kissed by a vampire, because he would like to kiss me again sometime."

"I can't believe a guy kissed you and you didn't tell me about it in nauseating detail!"

"Well—you were adding to the journals all the time, talking about how to kill this monster and how to destroy that abomination. You went through your vampire-hunting weapon-making phase. I thought it would be better if I didn't tell you until Argyle was a safe distance from you, and from kissing me. Then I thought it over, and I hoped he might give me another kiss the next summer, if I got to see him again. So I didn't say anything to you. I wanted to, though."

"Hm. At least he didn't try to bite you."

"Not that summer."

Dipper was halfway up his arms in dish soap, but he gave up on the pan he had been bitterly scrubbing. "He tried to bite you last summer?"

"Don't look like that. He gave me a little nip. He's a vampire, it's kinda what they do."

"Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh, you asked him to."

"He wouldn't do it until I asked like a million times. The way they normally bite, for real, is with only one tooth. Like this." Mabel curled her lip and mimed gnawing with one canine tooth. "It doesn't leave the double marks. I asked Argyle if he would please just give me the matching nicks like girls always have in novels."

"Mabel, that was a terribly bad idea. What if he'd gotten carried away?"

Mabel made a little pout. "He won't. He didn't drink from me at all when he bit me that _one_ time." She held up a single finger. "He just, like, licked his lips, because there was a little blood."

"Ugh."

"It was the way I wanted it. I wanted to wear a scarf over a real vampire bite. He won't do it again. So far. I stopped bugging him about it for now. And he'll only give me one kiss a summer. He says I'm too young to throw away my summer dating a vampire."

"You'll always be too young to be spending your summer kissing a vampire, and the guy is eighty-three—"

"Eighty-two. He turns eighty-three in June."

"—and he's also nineteen. Both of his ages are too old for you."

"I like him, and I don't want you to turn him into a pile of ashes. So please don't."

Dipper said gruffly, "I'm not going to hurt him."

When the dishes were done, Dipper made Mabel follow him up to the attic. He opened one of the journals to the entry on vampires and shoved it under her nose.

"If you wanted to know what it was like, you could have read Grunkle Ford's detailed and thorough description in the journal. It's all right here. In case you forgot, there's a highlighted section about how vampires might feed on people and make them forget it ever happened. There's hardly any way to distinguish between a vampire nick and a mosquito bite. They seem to be bug bites that have scabbed and been scraped off. They're less itchy than mosquito bites, but mostly people are just grateful for that. How do you know Argyle didn't drink from you, didn't bite you a lot more times than you remember, and make you forget?"

"You gave me, like, eighteen different charms against vampire mind control and magical memory loss. Remember?"

"Of course I remember the memory charms. Have you been wearing them?"

"Sure. Around my ankles, on my wrists, on my headband, on my shoelaces, as earrings ... I ate some on my cereal once or twice."

"You ate some?"

"Were they not meant to be eaten?"

"I did not give you any charms that were meant to be eaten."

"Well, the ones that looked like huckleberries ... down the hatch."

"Okay, okay. So he didn't make you forget."

Mabel sat down on Dipper's bed. "Is there anything in the journals about vampires that never turn back from stone?"

"You mean ones that get stuck that way somehow?"

"I mean, it could move around, without turning back from stone."

"You saw something weird? What did you see exactly?"

"Well, it was this big, stone buck deer with antlers, and I thought it was a vampire, but it didn't turn back alive even in the dark."

"It was solid stone? And it moved?"

"It looked like solid stone. I didn't actually touch it. But it looked just like a vampire when they're turned to stone for the day."

"You saw a rock beast?" Dipper grabbed a different journal and eagerly paged through it. "I think you might have seen a rock beast! They're very rare." He found the entry he wanted. "Rock beasts," he read. "Rock beasts are beasts ... made of rock ... eh, okay ... individuals may take the form of boulders, bears, or more frequently large deer, with all the capacity for movement and liveliness of the animals they mimic. Distinctive chew marks on local rocks, and rare eyewitness accounts suggest that their favorite foods are aplite, high-titanium basalts, granite, and ... sour cherries? That's what it says." He showed Mabel the page.

Mabel examined the sketch of a rock beast looking like a blacktailed deer, posing the way she'd seen hers do on the trail, and another sketch of one chewing on a stone. "Grunkle Ford is really good at drawing."

"He's trying to make me learn scientific drawing. No good at it, so far."

"Keep trying," said Mabel. She had been sitting neatly on the edge of the bed. Now she slouched and leaned on her hand so she covered more of the space. "Can I stay in your bed?"

"Of course, sure."

"And when I say stay in your bed, I mean get out of it quick and get into my pjs. Be right back." She came back dressed in pink flannel and arranged the blanket and Dipper to her liking.

Dipper sat up, reading, flipping pages with one hand and idly flicking Mabel's hair with the other.

In a few minutes, Mabel spoke up carefully, the way she did when she thought Dipper might judge her for something. "When that puma—or panther, whatever it was—leaped on Waddles ... I covered my eyes."

"You didn't want to watch."

"I couldn't. I had to cover my eyes. But think about it. What if Waddles had really been eaten? I wouldn't have been there with him in his last moments. I was too afraid to watch."

"I'm sure it's okay ... he's okay now, and he understands, don't you, Waddles?"

"I'm sorry, Waddles," said Mabel.

Waddles grunted softly.

"You could put the book away."

"Because the page-turning is bothering you? Or because you need a hug?"

"Hug."

Dipper made a long reach to lay the book on the bedside table, and wriggled down next to Mabel. He wrapped one arm over her shoulder and stuck the other arm beneath her neck, curling his hand up over her breastbone.

"You don't have to hold on so tight."

"Sorry." He sighed and loosened his hold. "I thought you might need a scared Mabel squeeze."

"Me and Waddles were scared. The panther looked me right in the face. It was so big. If Argyle hadn't grabbed it, it could make one jump—"

Dipper squeezed her again.

"I guess that tight is okay. That's about right." Mabel soon fell asleep. Dipper stayed awake, listening to the sleet drumming on the window.

********


	4. The Witch's Mystery Labyrinth

********

"Can I sleep with you again?"

"Sure. Any particular reason why?"

"I tried to glue sequins to my leg warmers for school, in bed. It didn't go well."

Dipper looked up from his book and beheld Mabel's appearance. Sequins glimmered on her pajamas, in her hair, on her cheeks. "I spilled the sequins, and now my bed is all scratchy."

"Why not just shake out your bedding?"

"I also spilled the glue. Then I tried sewing the sequins on, but the needles got lost in my bedding. So I need your bed. My sheets are sticky and prickly. On the plus side, they are shiny, since the glue seems to stick the sequins to cotton sheets much better than to my knitted leg warmers."

Dipper patted the space next to him. Mabel paused long enough to make fists to show her excitement and delight, and dove in.

Dipper looked down at her and fixated on a clump of sequins in her hair. He absently thought to brush them out for her, put his fingertips at the nape of her neck and ran his hand down through her hair. Mabel let out a little "Ouch."

"Sorry, what did I do?"

"You caught a tangle."

Dipper rubbed his hand on his pajama pants, as if he could remove the clumsiness from his fingers.

"Plus, I think I might have glued some of my hair together. Your fingers are not getting through there."

"Well, at least it's ... sparkly?"

"Yep! I'll have shiny dreams tonight. And comb my hair in the morning." Mabel closed her eyes, yawned, and dropped her glittery head onto half of Dipper's pillow. Without opening her eyes, she patted the other half. "There's room for you."

"I suppose your own pillows are covered in uncomfortable sequins."

"Yep."

Dipper eased his head onto his half of the pillow. The breath from Mabel's nose tickled his lips and chin. He kept his eyes open a long time, watching her. 

He awoke the next morning with a stiff, aching neck due to keeping himself from sliding backward off his half of the pillow.

********

Mabel had been attending the pink school for a few months. Dipper asked Mabel how it was going. He tried not to let his anxiety about the answer come through in his voice.

"It's going great! Socially. On the learning side of things ..."

"It's still school work."

"Yeah. We work at our own pace, but for me that means ... sort of a leisurely stroll? I want to be able to graduate in four years, so do you think you could ..." she added her math text to Dipper's fortress of books.

"Help you? Sure!"

They heard Grenda calling to them from the gift shop. They went down to find that Candy had been calling them, too, but she wasn't able to be heard over Grenda until Mabel and Dipper stood right next to the two girls. "School is out for a week," said Candy. "We have arrived to have spring vacation fun."

Mabel squealed. "My school is out, too!"

"Grunkle Ford says I can have the same days off that you girls have, as long as I get a little work done in the evenings."

"What will we do?" wondered Mabel. "What do you girls usually do when it's not summer?"

"**It's an overcast day. There'll be hardly any customers at The Witch's Mystery Labyrinth. Let's go play on the statues!**"

"Is the labyrinth owned by a literal witch?" asked Dipper.

"I believe it is a real witch who can cast spells," said Candy.

Stan was taping up a sample Mystery Shack souvenir poster (butcher paper with a big, black question mark drawn on it: six dollars and fifty cents). "Huh! Before the Mystery Shack got popular, the hedge maze was just The Witch's Labyrinth. That old witch is a copycat."

"Do you not want us to go, Grunkle Stan?" asked Dipper.

Stan flapped his hand. "Nah, it's fine. Go have fun."

The kids made some jam sandwiches to pack for lunch and took their bikes, with Waddles riding in Mabel's basket.

They pedaled for several miles and turned off the main road onto a drive that had been gravel at one time, but was now mostly dirt and low-growing weeds. A heavily worn offshoot from this drive led between two dark evergreen shrubs, with a pair of tall posts standing among the foliage. The posts bore a lintel with "The Witch's Mystery Labyrinth" spelled in wooden cut-out letters. The word "Mystery" was made of newer letters in a different, smaller font.

The kids set their bikes aside and walked in ceremonious single file under the lintel. Waddles hopped out of the basket and followed them.

The footpath curved down to a long, dense, five-foot-tall hedge wall. At a gap in the hedge stood a square post with a box stuck to it. The box had "Welcome!" painted on it, and a slot for money. Grenda dropped in a five-dollar bill. Dipper got out his wallet, but she stopped him. "**Five is enough for all of us. My treat.**"

Inside, the grass was dull, but the hedges had plentiful deep green, shiny, small oval leaves. Directly opposite the entrance a dry fountain stood in its own square of lawn. Passages led right or left. Candy pulled a ball of yarn out of her backpack and tied one end to the large stone lotus bud decoration on top of the fountain. "Now we can go whichever way we would like."

They chose to go right, first. "**I'll lead the way.**"

The grass along the narrow passage was denser and greener than at the entrance. The kids passed two short, shadowy dead-ends. The first of these held a fountain with its top tier filled with soil, to allow snowdrops to catch the sun.

Mabel breathed, "Oh," and grabbed a lower tier to pull herself up to the flowers.

"Don't touch those with your bare hands," warned Dipper. "They can cause skin irritation."

Mabel laughed. "Skin irritation," she said, pronouncing it as if it were the name of a wacky friend of hers. But she climbed back to the ground. Next a wide half-circle opened up, in its center another fountain, decorated with a cherub blowing a horn. The basins were dry and stained with algae. Birds scattered whenever the kids rounded a corner. Birdseed, nuts, and chunks of pet food dotted the grass and mingled with the gravel in raised beds. These were made with short, thick pieces of lumber placed upright and attached close together, fencelike, to hold the earth in. Some of the raised beds had only thin, fine gravel and straggly short weeds. Others were filled with pebbles and had been recently weeded. In the middle of one, a stone squirrel sat with its paws to its mouth, as if it were nibbling something.

Dipper went to look closely at a stone bluejay perched on the edge of a raised bed, and perceived a faint glow coming from the dirt and threadbare gravel. If the day had been bright the glow would have been invisible. He cupped his hands over it and could make out a rod, buried lengthwise, about as thick as his thumb and twice as long. The rod was yellow, but it was casting a pale green light. Dipper began to look for, and find, lights of varying lengths sunk in all of the raised beds. In the daylight he could only be sure they were glowing by holding his hands over them, but at night, in the beds that had statues, they would illuminate the animals from underneath.

Dipper, Mabel, and Candy wound up back in the passage with the dense, short grass. Grenda had disappeared.

"Look out," said Candy. "She will jump out at us!"

Dipper hung back. Mabel peeked around every corner; then, when Grenda did not appear, climbed whatever she found in the alcoves. "I want to see if there are any more flowers." She struggled to get her chin over the lip of a big amphora. "Dirt, but no plants." On her way back down, she bumped her knee in the crook of the amphora's handle. "Ouch!" Mabel came back to the main passage, brushing off moss and dirt. Dipper watched to make sure her knee was all right, then stepped back so she could go ahead of him again. Grenda leapt out from what looked like solid hedge wall and grabbed Mabel. Mabel squealed, Grenda giggled, then they both laughed. Dipper knew that if he had been in front, he'd have gotten a vigorous noogie.

Grenda's hiding place was tight enough for branches to rub the kids' shoulders on both sides. It ran for a few yards, and they kept their hands open so they could run leaves through their fingers. The trail parted into three archways covered in vines, leading to three wavy passageways. The kids ran up and down, yelling to each other across the hedges, weaving back and forth around the winding walls until they made themselves dizzy.

Along these paths there were stone animals. The children would round a bend and find an animal frozen in the act of coming the other way, as if it had been exploring the maze and been turned to stone. Dipper paused to rest with his hands on his knees, face to face with one of these animals, and remarked, "This place sure has a lot of possum statues. Come on. Let's see what's in the other direction."

"Okay," answered Mabel. "Waddles! Come along." She looked around. "Waddles? Where'd you get off to?"

They all doubled back to the lotus bud fountain, with no sign of Waddles. "He's lost," moaned Mabel.

"He's probably getting into the birdseed and stuff scattered on the ground around here," said Dipper.

Mabel kept peering into the darkness under hedges where Waddles could not possibly fit. She wrung her hands. "He could have the decency to let me know."

They found a long, rectangular space that seemed to be the center of the maze. It had one raised bed, lower and larger than the others they had seen, with several lights set into it. On the grass in a corner, a stone goat was lazily curled, giving Dipper the impression that it had walked off of the big platform to take a nap. Candy and Grenda began to perform classical poses on the empty raised bed, but Mabel asked them to help her search for Waddles, so Grenda jumped down and Candy stepped carefully after her.

"**Next time I'm bringing a toga.**"

They strolled along, trailing their fingers in the glossy hedge leaves and calling Waddles. At a concrete bird bath, filled with blue glass pebbles, sand, and birdseed, they scared up a bluejay and many tiny birds. Mabel stopped everyone with a gesture and whispered, "I think I heard Waddles." She pointed at a hedge wall. "There! Is that you, Waddles?"

Waddles stuck his head out through a notch low in the hedge, oinked, and disappeared again. Mabel got down on her hands and knees and tried to follow. "Um," she said after a minute. "My face is smooshed up in some branches."

Dipper helped her work herself out backward, and she emerged with snags in her sweater and a twig in her hair. Dipper stared at it, rubbing his fingers and thumb together. The twig was sure to be all tangled up in there, and he'd make things worse trying to pull it out. Until the sequins incident, taking foreign objects out of Mabel's hair, even if she yelped, had not bothered him. Grenda relieved him by plucking it from Mabel's hair herself. Sure enough, Mabel winced when Grenda pulled the twig out, and again when Grenda ran her broad fingers through the tangle. She patted Mabel's hair smooth and Dipper relaxed.

"Look what I found." Mabel held up a tiny grey stone between her thumb and forefinger. Dipper squinted at it, wondering. Mabel said, "Hold out your hand," and plunked the stone into his palm.

Dipper held it close to his eyes. "Oh my gosh. It's a carved snail."

"**Let me see. Its shell is perfect! How do you make something that tiny?**"

"Lasers," suggested Dipper.

Mabel said, "Vampire snail."

"Magic spells!" said Candy.

"Maybe you're right," said Dipper.

The kids put the snail back under the hedge and walked alongside a gradually curving wall, seeking the next opening in a direction that might lead to Waddles. Candy ducked partway through a plain, narrow opening, and called, "Hey! Come here and look."

She had found a wide lawn, with a deciduous shrub in each corner. In the middle of this clearing stood a stone horse. The horse leaned forward as if pulling a plow, and a real plow had been dug into the grass behind him, just as if it were cutting a field, but there was no harness. Waddles was not there.

"I will ride the horse," determined Candy.

Dipper gave her a leg up even as he asked, "Is it okay to do that?"

"These animals are made of solid stone." Candy pushed off of Dipper's palm and scrambled over the statue's back. "They are indestructible."

"Look at its weird tail," said Dipper. The tail curled under, not quite between the horse's stone hocks, making a ring of itself like a monkey's tail. Hair draped in curving sections that crossed each other, and because of where the sculptor had left negative space, it looked like the spokes of a wheel.

The horse statue's mane was detailed down to loose locks blowing across his cheek, and the insides of his ears looked furry. He wore a fancy braided bridle, not made of stone, that gave off a subtle gleam. Mabel admired and touched it. "It feels like super soft cotton, but look how shiny it is."

Candy wound up her thread and they returned to their bikes for lunch. Waddles arrived promptly when called. He expected, and received, a jam sandwich of his own.

********

On their second day playing at the labyrinth, Candy said, "Dipper, let us ride the horse. I call the withers! Your seat can be on the rump."

The group got turned around a couple of times on their way to the horse and plow. Grenda let Candy stand on her shoulders to find the display they wanted.

Dipper stood back and looked the horse over critically. "Has this horse moved? Same pose, a little farther back."

"**Some of the statues change almost every day, even the big ones. The witch must have some way of moving them.**"

"I think it is spells," said Candy.

"Maybe the horse is a vampire," said Mabel, patting his cheek.

Candy adjusted her glasses and peered at the horse. "Are vampires real?"

"They're very real," said Mabel.

"Will this horse wake up and eat us?" asked Candy.

Dipper answered, "He can't until sundown."

"If he was even the kind of vampire who eats people," said Mabel, and kissed the horse on its muzzle.

"**The labyrinth is open after sunset, until late at night.**"

"I think it is spells," said Candy.


	5. Alien Science

********

For three days it was cloudy with no rain, perfect outdoor maze playing weather. There were hardly any customers other than the kids. Waddles waddled around the property.

On the third day, they found an enormous bear statue. He was weathered and mossy; his nose was rounded off, his claws smooth and his paws pitted. He stood on his hind legs, showing his teeth, frozen in the act of waving his paws threateningly at nothing: he was the only statue in his own room of the maze. Mabel stood opposite the bear and made faces at him, mimicking his rampant pose.

Dipper hopped up and got purchase with the ball of one foot on the bear's hip. He ran his hand down its stone head and neck fur. The moss growing inside the grooves was soft under his fingertips. His sneaker slipped and he slid down. Mabel chased him, bearlike, until Grenda jumped out at them with a roar so loud that both of the Pines kids ducked and shuddered. Dipper smoothed his hair and tried to act as if he hadn't been startled, but Mabel shrieked and ran, with Grenda roaring, and alternately giggling, behind her.

In the late afternoon, Mabel called Waddles and he didn't come. Everyone searched the labyrinth, calling his name and offering all sorts of edible temptations. They looked behind fountains and as far as they could under the tight hedges, reaching carefully into the deepest shadows, hoping to bump against Waddles or to drive him out. Grenda set Dipper up on her shoulders. There was no sign of a pink pig anywhere. The kids left the labyrinth to look for him by the witch's house. They went between the posts and under the lintel, picked up their bikes, and rode back to the threadbare gravel track. It ran down to a mailbox stenciled "Balaska". The driveway wound past the house and turned to grass under a gigantic, spreading pine tree.

The witch's house was small but rambling, made out of weathered boards, and had a roofed front porch with cracked wooden shingles. In the front yard, and across the driveway under the pine, stood white concrete fountains and grey benches, like those inside the labyrinth. Squirrels and birds departed lazily as the kids biked up the driveway. The top bowls from bird baths had been arranged on the ground in rows and filled with birdseed. Chipmunks took the time to stuff their cheeks before giving their tails a jerk and scurrying off.

There were stone animal statues here, too. Some posed as if washing their faces or grooming their fur, with no formal stands, just sitting on the grass, like the ones that had seemed to be roaming in the maze.

Under the long, thick, lowest branches of the pine, on a carpet of rusty pine needles, sat a row of polished stone bowls filled with ruby liquid. It smelled alcoholic. In the tree perched a wee stone owl, with its feet fitted around the base of an offshoot branch. It was so small its feet could not have gripped the main branch.

"Oh, look at it! It's so tiny and perfect! It's adorable, look, Dipper!"

"I'm looking. It's adorable."

Mabel beamed in satisfaction. She petted the owl's toes. "Oh, look, it's like a messenger owl. It's got a little packet of something tied to its leg. See, all made out of stone. Ooh, maybe it's a vampire owl, and not really a statue at all. This could be a packet of consecrated ground."

"Could be. Could also be a carving of a carrier owl. It's vampire everything with you."

Mabel glanced over her shoulder at the house. "I'm going to go up on the porch and knock, and find out if anybody has seen Waddles."

Dipper trailed her to the porch. Mabel went up one step, looked over the porch railing, and evidently spotted something in a dormant flower patch in the side yard. "Waddles?" She leaned over the railing. "Nope, it's just another stone statue. But it is a pig!" She went down to get a closer look. "It looks like Waddles." Mabel knelt in last year's yellowed lily leaves and ran her fingers over the pig's muzzle and the tips of its ears. "It is Waddles! It's him. It looks just like him." She wrapped her arms around the stone pig's neck.

"Come on, Mabel, there's no way that's ... Waddles ... wow, it does look exactly like him."

"I want to call Argyle for help—this is some kind of vampire thing. I don't know how it happened. But it's daytime and Argyle won't be able to come to the phone."

"The witch can help, if it is a real witch." Candy tried knocking on the door. "Nobody is here."

Mabel asked Dipper, "Help me get him into the bike basket." Mabel cupped her hands under the pig's chin, Dipper stuck his hands under his belly, and they both heaved, but they only reared him up a few inches before they had to set him down again.

"**I can put him in your basket, Mabel.**"

"Never mind, Grenda—if Dipper and I can't lift him together, he'll be too heavy for my bike basket."

Dipper said, "Let's go home. You can at least leave a message for Argyle."

"We can't leave Waddles here alone!"

A rusty brown pick-up rolled down to the end of the drive. "Hey, dudes."

Dipper and Mabel said together, "Soos!"

"Waddles turn to stone?"

"Yeah. Is he a vampire now? Is my pig going to have to dwell in darkness?"

"Don't cry, Hambone. Nobody's going to be dwelling in any darkness. Except, you know, actual vampires. They'll continue to dwell in darkness. It's kinda their thing."

"He's not a vampire?"

"It's only temporary," said Soos. "I was just stopping in to nip some hedges for Mrs. Balaska. Good thing I came by. We can put Waddles in my truck. He must have gotten into the blood and wine in the yard. Could he have drunk it three times?"

"He could have," admitted Mabel tearfully. "I wasn't watching him the whole time. What is it he drank?"

"Vampire blood and sour cherry wine. But don't worry. It won't turn him into a real vampire."

"Wait," said Dipper. "Did all the animals around here, and in the labyrinth, get made into stone by drinking that stuff?"

"It's how The Witch's Mystery Labyrinth works. The animals pose themselves by romping about the maze." Soos depicted romping by pointing two of his fingers downward and wiggling them. "Daylight touches them and—boom—solid stone."

"But Grenda said it's open at night."

"Yeah, dude."

"Are the animals stone at night?"

"That's what the lights are for."

"Oh—the lights!"

"Yeah, they're some kinda magical, I dunno, sunlight substitute? I have to keep them weeded so they can shine on the statues."

They got Waddles home in the back of Soos's truck, the bikes following along behind. Grenda and Candy wished Mabel good luck and rode off home. Once she was at the Mystery Shack with just Dipper, Soos, and the petrified Waddles, Mabel sniffled on her pig's rigid shoulder.

"Aw, Mabel, don't," said Dipper. "Soos said he's not a vampire. Besides, you like vampires."

"Waddles isn't meant to be a tragically misunderstood, smoldering, yet emotionally vulnerable, paranormal predator! Besides, I need him to keep me company during the daytime."

"Waddles'll be fine tonight after dark," said Soos. "He might turn to stone again tomorrow for a little while, but it'll probably all wear off before tomorrow afternoon. It's just vampire blood with wine mixed in. It can't change anybody permanently into a creature of the night."

Dipper wondered, "Where does the witch get the blood?"

Mabel asked anxiously, "Does she hunt vampires? I have friends who are vampires."

"It's her own blood. Mrs. Balaska is a vampire. And also a witch. I think that's like, irony or something."

"What did that witch do now?" Stan came in and looked over the scene in the dining nook. "Petrified the pig and made my niece cry. Wonderful."

Mabel swiped at her tear streaks with her thumb. "I'm sure Mrs. Balaska didn't mean it, Grunkle Stan. I should've kept an eye on Waddles."

Stan leaned down and patted the stone pig. "He should be easy to keep track of now! Hah!"

Ford strode in wearing a dirt-caked duster and carrying an empty glass coffee pot. He looked down at Waddles. "Vampire? Or the Witch's Labyrinth?"

"Labyrinth," said Dipper. "It's weird. They have these magical lights—"

"Not magical," said Ford. "Alien science. Follow me while I talk. I need a refill." He went to the kitchen and rummaged in a drawer, coming up with a handful of loose brown sugar cubes, an unwrapped caramel candy, and a striped peppermint.

"Vampires are alien science?" Dipper asked.

"Vampires are clearly supernatural," said Ford. "I'm referring to the lights." He took a full pot of coffee from the percolator and set his empty pot in its place. "Sections of the ancient alien spacecraft broke up with the impact. There are light sticks all over the ground in some places in Gravity Falls. Same as the stuff I've found inside the buried spaceship itself. You can cut them any length you want. They're easy to cut with a lumber saw. Come down to the lab with me and I'll show you some samples."

Half of one shadowed wall in the basement lab was jumbled with filing cabinets of all shapes and sizes. Dipper had explored the papers in them before. Ford kicked up the wheel lock on one cabinet, rolled it away from the wall, and slid open a squeaky pocket door.

"Grab a hatchet off the pegboard," Ford said, "and get me one, too."

Down a long, dark hallway they went, carrying their hatchets. Dim, yellowish light came from bare bulbs dangling every few yards. Dipper and Ford passed doors with label plates obscured in darkness, and large objects shrouded with drop cloths. A light bulb hung before a vending machine offering Pitt Cola in old-fashioned, small glass bottles.

"Wait a minute, Grunkle Ford." Dipper put in a coin and got himself an original Pitt Cola.

"Get me one," said Ford. They opened the bottles at the bottle opener built into the machine.

The door next to the vending machine was the one Ford wanted. He gave the handle a firm jerk, and the door creaked open a half-inch. Ford stuck his foot in the door and used his hatchet to chop up something that prevented the door from opening all the way. He gestured Dipper inside, and Dipper took one step and drew back. Some big object blacker than the gloom inside blocked his way. He reached out and felt hard, smooth tree bark.

Ford said, "I planted an unidentified alien seed in a pot by the door, and it grew roots over the sides of the pot and into the floor. Scoot under there on all fours and hack off some of the branches on the other side so we can get through. I'll get the big ones in front of my face. Then I'll find the light switch."

The room smelled of damp earth. Dipper used his hatchet by feel. He could hardly see his hands as fuzzy shapes against the trunk of the tree. There was an odd glow in the room, not exactly light, but something his eyes thought he might be able to see by if he could only pick out any outlines.

Ford threw a switch and Dipper found that the reason he hadn't been able to make out any outlines was partly because there were very few to see. The place was crawling with plants.

"Vampires exposed to those weird lights turn to stone, as if they were caught in daylight. This suggested to me that the lights might be alien grow lights. So I planted some stuff to try it out. It worked!"

A bulb in a wire cage on the wall near the door now overwhelmed whatever glow had struggled to suffuse the room, but Dipper thought he could make out a greenish shine around some of the plants that wasn't a reflection of their own color. One wall was made up of specimen drawers. Though many of the label slots were obscured, Dipper could tell that there were so many drawers that they ran through the alphabet at least twice. Vines dragged the drawers open by curling around and weighing down their handles. Smaller tendrils reached inside, looking like fingers rifling through the contents of the drawers. These vines didn't touch the floor; they aerially spanned a couple of yards from a metal fixture chained to the ceiling. A tower of other plants cascaded to the floor from the fixture, or climbed up toward it; it was difficult to say which way was roots and which was tops.

"They're after the light," said Ford. "That fixture is what I set up for them, and the strongest vines are covering it now. So the rest are climbing all over to get to the other alien grow lights. Some of the specimen drawers have alien seeds in them, but the rest have lights I've collected. That's why the plants are crossing the room to get to them. Same with the refrigerator." Ford pointed his hatchet at the central mass of plants. "There's a table in there."

He shuffled through dunes of pale, shed leaves on the floor and hacked at some thick runners, blade thunking on the wooden table underneath. He yanked the severed vines out of the way, and Dipper saw the hatchet scars in the edge of the tabletop. Ford opened a long, shallow drawer set into the table, and out came a greenish gleam. Grow light rods were fitted into the drawer in rows of like sizes, a set of long ones butted against the side of a set of short ones facing the other way, so more would fit. Dipper picked one up. It was a shaved cylinder, with just enough flat surface on one side so that it couldn't roll. It was cool to the touch.

"Put that in your pocket. Plenty more where that came from."

After dark, in the middle of _Ducktective_, Waddles woke up, snorted, and shook flakes of stone onto the carpet. Mabel gasped and embraced him, and he waddled off into the kitchen. Mabel called after him, "Just wait a minute, I'll get you some supper." She turned to Dipper. "I'm going to get him some oatmeal. I'm so relieved he's all right. Oops, there goes the phone. Can you get it? Thanks." Mabel blew Dipper a kiss on her way to the kitchen.

Dipper picked up the receiver. The call was from Soos. "I forgot to mention. For a short period of time Waddles will thirst for blood."

And from the kitchen: "Ow! What the heck, Waddles? Mabel! Call off your pig!"

"Waddles! Don't drink the blood of Grunkle Stan."

********


	6. Cherry Blossoms

********

"Grab your bike, Dipper! We have to go out to Cherry Farm."

"What? We have to go where?"

"It's blossom season! We've never been in Gravity Falls in the spring before. It's only about six miles out to Argyle and Angus's place. Come on."

"The cherry farm is where the vampires live?"

"Yeah! Well, technically, they unlive there."

Dipper had to bike hard to keep up with his sister. The road was mostly a slow uphill. To one side, natural forest transformed suddenly to rows of cherry trees, crowded with soft pink blossoms. The mailbox marked the driveway, which was long, winding, and also uphill. Petals twirled down and the wind swirled most of them into drifts. Individual petals fluttered and flipped in the grass.

Dipper and Mabel parked their bikes in a half-circle of gravel in front of the house. The ancient pine board house looked like half of an A-frame; its roof slanted steeply down only one side. Its black wooden shingles were dotted with cherry petals. The pine board siding was stained almost black, and the door was coated in yellow lacquer.

On the gravel was a car, a delicious pale pink in color, with "Cherry Car" painted on it in a 1950's script. "Oh my gosh," said Dipper. "It's a 1965 Oldmobile Alpha-Numeric Machismo. That's the kind of car they drive in _Ducktective_."

There was also a carefully kept 1952 Studebaker truck in robin's egg blue, with "Cherry Truck" and pairs of cherries painted on its doors. Dipper knew the year, because Soos had admired it aloud on numerous occasions.

Mabel led the way to more orchard behind the house. "I think I know where the boys are. Argyle you know, and Angus is his twin. You might not see much of their dad. His name is Caesar, and he unlives around here, too, but he can be pretty shy."

They strolled through row upon row of cherry trees, crossing the truck lanes of last season's grass in between. The trees were bare of leaves, so the heavy, fluffy coating of flowers made it look as if snow had entirely covered the branches. Mabel touched the silky blossoms, not shaking nor pulling them, but the wind had no such compunctions about twisting them off the trees. Petals brushed her cheeks. She tipped her head way back and looked up into every tree massed with blossoms until she said, "Whoah, I make myself dizzy."

A valley of pine forest and rock formations opened before them. Mabel swung one arm out wide and did a half-spin, gesturing broadly at the end of the orchard. "Here they are."

Someone leaned sideways against the last orchard tree, relaxing. Dipper said, "Hey," in an instinctive greeting, but the someone did not turn around. Dipper blinked, and shook his head to clear it. "Okay, now I'm embarrassed. It took my brain a minute to catch on that this is one of your friends. I've read all about vampires getting petrified, and I've witnessed it with Waddles, but it still creeps me out to walk up to some guy and have him turn out to be solid stone."

On the ground, also solid stone, sat Argyle. Both of the boys were facing east, and had their heads ducked and eyes shielded with their forearms. "They like to try and watch the sun come up," said Mabel. "But it hurts their eyes right when it hits them. And then it turns them to stone."

"So far, vampires aren't sounding so bright," Dipper said. He added, "Don't pet them."

Mabel continued to stroke Argyle's petrified buzz cut. "The one you're petting is Angus."

Dipper jerked his fingers off of the stone jacket collar. "Not petting. Just touching. It's crazy how smooth this jacket is."

"Angus always wears a black leather jacket and cool shades, and has his hair slicked back."

"Cool shades? The kind meant to protect eyes from the sun? On a vampire."

Mabel sighed, and mingled it with pronouncing the word: "Sigh. Angus is so unattainable."

"If a guy is unattainable, he won't make a good boyfriend anyway."

"It's not like that. Angus only likes boys. To bite and to kiss."

"How did you meet these guys, anyway?"

Mable put her arms around the unattainable vampire's neck. "Angus came to my rescue. Back when you and I were twelve, when we were staying with Grunkle Stan for the first time. They were showing _Figure Skating Princess Puppy_ and one of the sequels, outdoors at the park. You and Grunkle Stan didn't want to go for some reason, so you left me at the diner after we all had supper, and I was going to walk to the park."

********

The Pines had eaten supper together at the diner. Stan told Mabel, "I'll pick you up at the park after the puppy movies are over."

The first thing Dipper had done upon arriving in Gravity Falls was acquire a library card. Mabel had a stack of Dipper's library books, a few of her own, and her trusty scrapbook, all piled in her arms. She walked from the diner to the library, pausing occasionally to shrug her shoulders and adjust her hold on the pile of books. Once, she had to stop and set down the whole pile, to secure her tiara with the brown felt puppy ears attached to it.

The library was closed when Mabel got there. The brick building had an after-hours return slot, cut out of a brass plate. Mabel stood next to it and, with one hand, pulled books off the pile on her other arm. It was barely light out, and she wasn't really looking at the books as she threw them in, and then she realized her arm was empty. She had thrown her scrapbook into the book return.

Leaving it there overnight was out of the question. Any number of scrapbookortunities might be missed in the meantime. Mabel didn't think it had fallen in all that far, so she reached into the slot to pull it back out. She felt no book, so pushed her arm in almost up to the shoulder, wiggled her fingers, and stuck her tongue out with the effort. She thought her fingers brushed the binding of her scrapbook, and she withdrew her hand to try again from another angle—or tried to. Her arm was stuck.

She thought she could just reach in a little bit farther, get the book, and get her arm out afterward. She crammed her arm in far enough that the book slot plate squeezed her shoulder. She leaned back to get comfortable, and her arm did not come along. Mabel remained smushed up against the brick wall of the library, with her cheek on the brass of the plate.

Mabel gave up on her scrapbook. She tried yanking her arm out, and it hurt. She tried to push her shoulder out with her other hand, then attempted bracing with her free hand and one foot and leaning back. She wiggled around, hoping to jiggle her arm loose.

Mabel stopped struggling to take a breath. She righted her tiara and considered: she had gotten her arm into the slot. She had to be able to get it out. She pushed and kicked at the wall, and jerked her shoulder, making grunts of frustration and whines of distress. She made circles with her elbow, deep inside the hole. Her shoulder moved enough to get scraped by the metal. "Ow, ow, ow!" She slapped the bricks with her free hand. The slot pinched hard, and seemed even to suck her more deeply inside. Mabel wondered what really happened to books that got dropped into the return slot. "Dipper," she whimpered instinctively. "Grunkle Stan." She looked over her shoulder. The lights were out in the shops across the street. Nobody was on the sidewalks.

Mabel relaxed her neck, letting her eyes rest on the cone of light from a nearby lamppost, and gave a start that yanked hard on her trapped arm. A shadowy human shape stood just beyond the light. "Who's that standing out in the dark? I can't see you."

The shadowy shape walked into the circle of light. "Hey. Can you see me now?" He was a teenager wearing dark glasses even though it was nighttime, a leather jacket, nice shoes, and slicked-back hair. "Need help?"

"Um." It occurred to Mabel that she was stuck, and anybody who knew that could do whatever he wanted to do to her. She would figure a way out of this library wall on her own, go to the movie, and Grunkle Stan would come and get her. "Haha, I didn't do anything dumb like get my arm stuck in the book return. Why would you think that? Just talking to myself by the slot. Good old slot." She gave the brass a trembling pat with her free hand.

The boy gave her the smallest of smiles with one corner of his lips. "My name is Angus. Who are you?"

"Mabel. My name is Mabel Pines and I live at the Mystery Shack, and I own a grappling hook."

"Got it." Angus pointed his finger and gave a click of his tongue. "Shout if you need me." He nodded at her tiara. "Nice ears." He disappeared around the corner of the library.

Mabel missed him immediately. How long had it been since supper at the diner? Her stomach rumbled. It didn't seem like she could have been trapped long enough to get hungry. How late was it, really? If she ever got out of here, was her shoulder going to show a big bruise? Bruises were only cool if you got them doing something Dipper thought was tough. She imagined Dipper being kind and gentle because of her bruised arm, doing things like giving her extra pillows and not punching her in that arm, all because she got the bruises doing something stupid and dumb. Her eyes grew hot. She pushed against the wall and pulled despite the pain, and still nothing gave. She sobbed, "Angus! I need help."

The boy in the leather jacket instantly appeared. "Hello again."

"Were you waiting for me to weaken?"

"I was waiting for you to need me."

"I need somebody. My arm is stuck in the slot."

The boy came silently closer and Mabel flinched. "I know you're a vampire."

"Do you know me?"

"No. You're a stranger. But I can tell. Teenagers in Gravity Falls go around in groups at night. And you dress all slick and cool, not like regular kids. You're either a vampire or a loner from the 1950s, and it hasn't been the 1950s in a long time."

"I was a loner in the 1950s, and I am a vampire."

"Are you the bad kind or the good kind?"

"You don't have to worry about a thing."

"I can't feel my fingers."

Angus said, "I have a key to the library. Can you wait alone while I go to the front door?"

Mabel sniffled, but she nodded bravely. Most of the time waiting for Angus was spent in trying not to cry. It seemed harder to be alone now that help had arrived. In a minute she sensed her numb fingers being manipulated, and sensation came back to her upper arm in a cold rush. Her pinched shoulder throbbed. Her arm was rocked slowly out of the slot. Her numb fingers wiggled when she willed them to, though they still felt really weird. She sought a tissue, but all she had in her pocket was a gum wrapper.

Angus reappeared around the corner. He put his hand on Mabel's shoulder and offered her a handkerchief. "Come inside and use the phone to call your folks."

Mabel wept outright, and hastily wiped her eyes with her good hand and used the handkerchief on her nose. "I'm supposed to meet Grunkle Stan at the park. Do you think you could help me get my scrapbook?"

"It's inside?"

Mabel nodded. Angus led her inside to the returns pile and had her pick out her scrapbook. She cuddled it to her chest.

"Are you hungry?"

Mabel faltered. She was starving. "I ... I probably don't eat what you eat, you know."

"Would it be okay if I walk you to the diner? For people food."

Mabel nodded, then laughed hesitantly. "Not food made of people."

"No." Angus smiled. "Not food made of people."

Mabel made a long sigh. "Thank you."

Angus and Mabel came into Greasy's holding each other by the hand. "Lazy Susan," Angus said with a nod toward the counter.

"Hi, sweetie. Hello, Mabel. Have you two been friends long?"

Angus said, "We just met at the library. Mabel, would you like me to buy you some salted peanut honeycomb brittle? It's really good."

Mabel hesitated. She should not accept candy from strange vampires. But Lazy Susan obviously knew and trusted Angus. Susan solved the problem before Mabel even answered, by wrapping a piece in waxed paper and handing it across the counter directly to her. "Here, honey." So Mabel got the candy from Susan, not from the strange vampire.

The brittle made Mabel feel better after just one bite. She thanked Angus in a more ladylike manner than she had managed so far. Then, when she was done chewing, she begged his pardon for having thanked him with her mouth full.

In the diner restroom, Mabel smoothed her hair, straightened her tiara, and wiped her face. Angus walked her to the park. Grunkle Stan wasn't there yet. There were still moviegoers in the park, so Angus said goodnight. Stan drove up a little later and leaned over to open the door for Mabel. She was hardly even in her seat before he asked, "What happened to you?"

"Nothing. I got stuck in the return slot at the library. There was this handsome vampire boy, and he rescued me, and all the books got returned, so you don't need to bring it up to Dipper."

"Libraries are dangerous. I keep telling you kids."

"I know, Grunkle Stan."

At home, Mabel headed Dipper off before he could ask how her night went. She said only, "I met a vampire."

She listened contentedly until bedtime as he told her how dangerous vampires were, and she watched as he placed garlic around her bed and produced a wooden cross from somewhere. He'd had a string of garlic over his bed as well, but he sacrificed it for Mabel's bed for one night. "Just to be on the safe side."

Mabel said, "My hero."

********

"Aw, Mabel. I'm sorry. It doesn't seem right that you needed a stranger to save you from being eaten by a library return slot. That should be my job."

"He's not a stranger," said Mabel.

"He was at the time, and I've never met him, so he's still a stranger to me."

"Only until the sun goes down, Dip." Mabel stared absently out over the valley, and eventually she continued slowly, in a monotone, "Di Dip Di Dip Bom Ba Ba Bom Ba Ba Bing A Dong Ding—"

Dipper had caught her cadence and beat her to "Blue Moon," saying the end of Mabel's newest nickname for him before she could finish it.

Mabel tackled Argyle as soon as cracks and crumbles showed on his flannel shirt. She helped him brush rock flecks and cherry petals out of his hair.

Angus, in stone, held his dark glasses in his hand and shaded his eyes with his forearm. The sun sank and he transformed from stone to flesh, and immediately put his shades on. He looked around, took them off again and got a good look at Dipper. Angus smiled, showing sharp points on his canines. His eyes were blue. "Oh, hey, I get to meet the brother?"

Mabel stood behind Dipper and gave his shoulders a squaring-up shake. "This is Dipper!"

Angus gestured between Mabel and Dipper with his cool shades. "You two have the same eyes."

Argyle said, "The two of you should stay to supper. Make yourselves at home in the house. Me and Angus will run down in Cherry Car and have our supper, and pick something up for you from the diner. What do you want? Our treat."

"Lasagna!" Mabel shouted. In a moderated voice she added, "Please."

Dipper ventured, "I wouldn't mind a ride in that car."

"Let's all go into town," said Angus. He put his dark glasses back on, tapped them into place on the bridge of his nose, and popped his jacket collar. It made Dipper feel as if he should be doing something, and he tugged pointlessly at his own nylon jacket.

Mabel noticed. She gave Dipper's jacket a pluck. "You look great, bro."

"Thanks. Uh, you have a ton of cherry blossom petals in your hair."

Mabel made a pirouette. "I thought so. But if I ruffled my hair to find out if there were very many up there, they'd all fall out. I want to wear them to supper."

********


	7. Nerd Hot

********

Dipper limped into the gift shop. His elbow was scraped and beginning to bruise. He'd caught himself with his arm bent and hand up, saving his video camera. His bare knee was gashed. Mabel dashed from behind the counter, dumped a box of souvenir finger puppets off of a chair and slammed it into the backs of Dipper's knees, so Dipper sat.

Mabel knelt to inspect the gash. She made a peak with her forefingers and thumbs over her forehead. "This is my nurse hat. Now, how did this happen?"

"I was filming Bigfoot—"

Mabel gasped. "Bigfoot did this?"

Stan was behind the cash register. "I'm gonna give that cryptid a piece of my mind."

"No, Grunkle Stan, don't do that, it's fine, I was running away from him—"

Mabel cried, "Bigfoot was chasing you?"

"We were playing tag. I was getting rare footage of Bigfoot running, for wildlife research purposes, and I fell and landed on a broken bottle that kind of stuck up out of that packed dirt in the front yard. Camera's okay, though." He held it up.

"Ah, reminds me of the glass shard days of my youth," said Stan.

"First step in first aid is to kiss it better," said Mabel.

"Uh, Mabel, I think we should—"

Mabel drew back from Dipper's knee, sputtering and gagging. "Glass fragments ... gravel ..."

"Yeah, I think we should sponge it clean. Thanks for the thought, though."

"Do I taste pecans mixed in with the dirt?"

"I also landed on my turtle candy. Bigfoot’s too lazy to play tag unless there's a snack involved."

Mabel darted into the bathroom and grabbed a box of adhesive bandages. She held several of them up to check the sizes against the length of Dipper's knee gash, ripped open a large one and patted it into place.

Dipper rose. "Thanks—"

Mabel shoved Dipper in the chest and he landed back in the chair.

"Stay right there, brojangles! I need to fix that bandage. It's only plain." Mabel delved behind the gift shop counter and came back with stickers. She explained them as she pressed them on top of the bandage. "A wolf, because you got the wound doing wildlife research. And a Sun drinking some kind of refreshing beverage and looking super happy about it. The wolf one costs a dollar for just one sticker. It doesn't come in a pack."

Dipper said, "So he's a lone wolf, huh?"

"Yeah, he's a lone wolf," said Mabel, patting the sticker wolf.

"Because he doesn't come in a pack."

Mabel stared at Dipper's face blankly for several seconds, then laughed.

"Thanks for the nursing and the stickers."

"No problemo, bro-lemo."

The gift shop door bell jingled. Mabel gasped, gave the adhesive edges of Dipper's bandage a last press and jumped up. "Customers!" She lifted her opened hand toward Stan. "Please?"

Stan took his eyepatch out of his jacket pocket and dangled it by the string. Mabel snatched it and ran to the door to greet the man and woman who smiled down at her. "We love tourists at the Mystery Shack! I'm Miss Mystery, grand-niece of the world famous Mister Mystery. I can get you his autograph for only fifteen dollars. The souvenir cat stationery for him to sign is extra. Here's a selection on this pegboard. How about some refreshment while you take the tour?" Mabel held up a cardboard tray arrayed with instant noodles, the kind one adds boiling water to and eats out of the cup. Mabel and Stan had snagged a case of expired crab-flavored noodle cups from the truck entrance of the grocery store and taped popsicle sticks to them. Dipper had drawn question marks on the cups in permanent marker. 

Mabel twirled a cup on its stick. "It contains a generous serving of some sort of crab! It's probably the flavor of Oregon, on a stick! We have a microwave if you want to eat it, but you can also just carry it around and wave it at people. Everyone will know you've been to the Mystery Shack in Oregon, or at least someplace crab-related. Take some home to your kids."

The tourist couple bought four noodle cups on sticks.

"Now for your complete tour! New to the Mystery Shack this summer: the Moose Goose! See an authentic, nearly complete skeleton up close. Taxidermologists are at a loss as to explain the secret of how it flew, due to the extra set of weird and mysterious antlers attached to its spine directly in front of its wings. Mystery Shack experts believe these wings lifted its butt so it could graze with its mouth hanging down in front, close to the grass. See the extra weird version with two heads! Just two dollars per person over the cost of the less amazing tour. You're already here—great idea, by the way, we always get the smartest people through here—you've already paid for the regular tour, go ahead and see the extra head and be extra astounded."

The extra weird version was the only version the Mystery Shack had. Stan had sent Dipper down to Taxidermy by the Pound to pick out a pile of whatever looked good. The Moose Goose's wings were fully feathered white goose wings, wired to the spine just in front of a deer skeleton's hips. A moose head and neck were affixed at the side of the deer skeleton's neck, and propped up with a broom under the moose's chin. Mabel's contribution to the project had been to paint the Moose Goose's hooves with pink glitter nail polish. Also the name.

The tourist lady placed four extra dollars in Mabel's palm.

Dipper remained in his chair, looking at his knee and listening to Mabel chatter as she led the couple away.

Stan said, "I told Mabel that she can keep any money she makes above what I charge. She's gonna rake it in."

Dipper looked after Mabel. He couldn't hear what she was saying, but she was near the Moose Goose, speaking nonstop, with enthusiasm. He looked again at the lone wolf on his knee. He spoke aloud, slowly, uncertain whether he was speaking to Stan or to himself. "My sister is never going to stop playing with stickers."

Stan came out from behind the counter and gave Dipper some slow, sympathetic pats on the back.

********

"**Nerds are so hot.**"

Dipper heard Grenda's part of the conversation before he could hear that anyone else was speaking. He was heading up to the attic bedroom to collect a vintage physics textbook he had pressed some flowers in for his botany presentation to Grunkle Ford. He could tell by how clearly voices came down the stairwell that the door to the bedroom was open.

Candy said, "Let us take a vote on which Sibling brother is the most nerdy. I will take examples from the text of this volume. Mabel, you did not tell me you have this book from the old-fashioned series of the Sibling Brothers."

"It's Dipper's."

"Oh," said Candy. "I found it on your bed. Did he put it here, or are you going to read it?"

Dipper was about to step into the room. He usually tuned out the girl talk when he hung out with Mabel and her friends, but in this case he might be able to show off a little, what with his comprehensive knowledge of the comparative nerdiness levels of the Sibling Brothers across print editions, radio, television, and movies. Mabel answered Candy. "I don't usually read them, but now I'm going to finish that one, I guess. It was sitting on Dipper's bedside table. Grunkle Ford and Dipper were doing science stuff all last night. It was lonely up here and I couldn't sleep, so I slept in Dipper's bed."

Dipper collapsed against the door frame out of sight outside the room, heart flopping weirdly. The boy comparisons emanating from the bedroom jumbled together and faded from contemplation. He was torn between guilt for leaving Mabel lonely, and a firm sense that it was a manly thing to do, to be up all night doing science. Indeed, his very presence in bed was so manly that Mabel could fall asleep safely in his bed even if he wasn't in it. He pictured Mabel reading the Sibling Brothers book all by herself, by the light of his bedside lantern instead of her own lamp. He saw her dropping off all by herself, snuggling into his very own blanket, contented because it was his bed. 

He vowed to talk to her and make sure she knew she could always ask him, if she was lonely, not to do science with Grunkle Ford all night on any given night. He imagined coming upstairs to check on Mabel, the way Grunkle Ford sometimes went up in the middle of science to say a word to Grunkle Stan. Often at those times, Ford would return to the lab grinning at some joke he'd shared with Stan. Sometimes he repeated it to Dipper, who rarely understood it. Dipper thought he should start taking short breaks from science. He could come all the way up from the lab to the attic and tuck Mabel into his own bed, see that she was safe and happy, get her to smile at him—that was usually easy—and then go back and do more science. For the purposes of this plan, in his mind's eye Dipper had sideburns and a five o'clock shadow. He did not have to invent the everpresent mysterious, inky, scientific stains on his fingers, clothes and cheeks.

"Argyle is nerd hot," Mabel was saying.

"**Totally!**"

Dipper's eyes narrowed. He collected himself, stood tall, sauntered into the bedroom. "Argyle only looks nerdy because he's stuck in the 1950s."

Grenda grabbed Dipper by his shirt collar and dragged him into the circle of girls. "**Here's an example!**"

"Oh, yes." Candy adjusted her glasses and peered. "Dipper is very nerd hot."

"Argyle has glasses," mused Mabel. "Dipper doesn't have glasses."

Dipper seethed. Just because Argyle needed glasses, he was getting more hotness points than Dipper. Outwardly, he hung limp and reddening in Grenda's grasp. Grenda released his collar. "**What's the verdict, Mabel? Candy and I vote nerd hot.**"

Mabel put her finger to her chin. "I'm pretty sure he's hot. But he's my own brother, so it can be difficult to tell. I better check using science." Mabel licked the tip of her finger carefully. "Hold still." She placed the licked finger on Dipper's arm. He felt her fingertip on his arm hairs, and slight cool dampness on his skin. Mabel yanked her hand back. "Ooh! Yowza! Ow, wow. Eesh, yeah, as I suspected. Definitely totally hot."

"**Can't argue with science.**"

"That is a fact," said Candy.

"**Look how well he blushes. It's so cute.**"

"Ladies, there's one thing you're forgetting."

"**What's that?**"

"Candy is cute, and brilliant, and she wears glasses."

Mabel gasped and let out a long squeal.

Candy said politely, "Thank you, Dipper."

"**Candy is nerd hot! This is a revolution! One of our own is a hottie, of the very classification under discussion.**"

"I'd better check," said Mabel, and touched a finger to Candy's cheek. "Ooh, she is! Candy, you're sizzling."

Candy giggled. "Thank you. I will try to be humble."

"**Your humility contributes to your hotness. She just keeps getting better.**"

With the attention of the girls on Candy, Dipper found the spot on his arm where Mabel had touched him with her licked fingertip. It still felt cooler than the rest of his skin. He brushed his fingers over it, and touched his own cheek.

"**Nerd makeover!**" Grenda yanked Dipper over and dropped him into a chair at Mabel's vanity. Dipper felt dizzy from the sudden sideways and downward movement.

Mabel's vanity was a folding card table with a full-length mirror standing on the floor behind it, so half the mirror extended above the card table. Mabel had draped decorations on the mirror.

Candy inquired, "Dipper, what do you think is your best feature?"

"I dunno ..." Dipper flexed. "Muscles?"

"**His hair!**" Grenda ran her fingers through it. "**So fluffy and thick and the color is so rich!**"

Mabel patted Dipper's hair. "He looks just like Grunkle Ford."

"**It has so much volume, it's glorious.**" Grenda was still playing with it.

"Okay, Grenda, that's enough." Dipper coaxed her hands away.

"What are we going to do with his hair?" Candy asked.

"Ah, let's remember that the bangs stay down, ladies."

Grenda ignored Dipper and answered Candy. "**Nothing. Not a thing! We won't touch it! We'll enhance it to nerd hot level eleven. We'll use accessories.**"

"He doesn't have glasses," Mabel reminded them, thumb and finger on chin, and lips pouted. Then she snapped her fingers, gasped, and her eyes widened. "Dipper! Can you ..."

"Yeah, yeah, okay, I'll get them."

"**Girls! Let's raid Mabel's uncle Ford's clothes closet.**"

Dipper trotted down to the lab, where something square and metallic was sizzling with blue sparks. Ford's goggles reflected the blue. He plucked his regular glasses out of his shirt pocket and loaned them to Dipper.

The girls dressed Dipper in one of Ford's thick sweaters with the knobbly, thin horizontal stripes, and a jacket with suede elbow patches. Then they sent him downstairs to find Stan.

Stan was in the kitchen, reorganizing shelves. Dipper said, "Hey," and pushed Ford's glasses up his nose. Stan looked, yelled, and dropped a bonus-size can of Brown Meat on his toe. He yelled again at the pain, grabbed his toe and looked up at Dipper at the same time, hopping to keep his balance. He made it to a kitchen stool and held his toe. He leaned over to try and see the girls snickering outside the doorway. "Kids!"

"Uh-oh," said Mabel. She was still giggling.

"You should know better than to do things like that! Until I heard you all snickering, I thought Ford had accidentally de-aged himself." He frowned severely at Dipper. "Go give your Grunkle Ford his glasses back." Stan looked as if his toe hurt him considerably, or as if he were really mad about the whole thing—his eyes were gathering tears. Dipper began to feel a little rotten.

"**Psst,**" Grenda whispered. "**Dipper. Shouldn't you hug him?**"

"Yeah, sure. Grunkle Stan, want a hug from young Ford?"

"Yeah, okay."

Dipper and Stan hugged. When Stan pulled away he patted Dipper's hair and lifted his chin with a finger and said, "Take care of yourself, okay, young Sixer?"

Dipper saluted and was leaving for the basement, but in that moment Stan doubled over, forehead in his hand, saying, "Darn it."

"What is it? Grunkle Stan?" Dipper took the glasses off and put them in the jacket pocket.

"**Oh, no. We hurt his feelings.**"

"Mr. Pines, we are ashamed of ourselves."

"No point in being ashamed," said Stan, sniffling and hiding his eyes.

The girls hesitantly approached him. Mabel placed two stickers on the back of his hand. She hugged him, held on until he wiped his eyes and sat up straight. Stan wiped his eyes some more, with the back of his stickerless hand. He blinked blurrily at the stickers. "What are these?"

"Powerful happiness support stickers. This one is a scratch and sniff strawberry, and the other is made from a photograph of a pure white Angora kitten with big, innocent eyes. They seem to be working. Don't try to get up yet."

Stan scratched and sniffed the strawberry.

Ford appeared in the kitchen. "Dipper, I need my glasses back."

Dipper started to say, "Yeah, sure thing," but he couldn't make it through the sentence. He was going to pull the glasses out of his pocket, but he stopped and covered his mouth with the fingertips of his other hand, to stop giggles from getting out; one of them got to Mabel anyway; she usually caught his laughter. She let out a short shout of amusement—which meant Grenda laughed, Candy giggled, and Stan chuckled, with his head in his hands again.

"I don't see what's so funny about glasses," Ford huffed, and Stan roared. Dipper laughed out loud, Mabel laughed out loud, and Ford snatched his glasses out of the pocket of his own jacket, which was on Dipper, and stalked out of the room.

"Wait, wait, Grunkle Ford, I'll explain it. I'll tell you what's funny about glasses." Dipper was still, at fifteen, taking two steps for every one of Ford's.

Dipper followed him to the lab and told him everything. Ford smiled, and chuckled once, when Dipper described Grunkle Stan dropping a can of meat on his toe. "Ever since we were kids, Stanley has been prone to injuring himself."

Dipper chuckled, too. "Yeah. Anyway, Grunkle Stan got over his crying, and we all got silly. We weren't laughing at you."

Ford gave a short hum. He had his glasses on, and was poking tiny wires into little holes in a small globe. It winked and glowed through other small holes. Dipper startled when sparks arced out of the lighted openings. Ford stood and watched, thin wire at the ready for more poking into more holes. Then a streak of flame shot out of one little hole and Ford shucked his lab coat and threw it over the globe. A wider stream of flame cut a hole through the lab coat and towered toward the ceiling. Ford and Dipper each grabbed a fire extinguisher. Smoke, sparks, gurgling, and a twitching of the wires came from under the ruined lab coat. Ford hammered on the coat, the device, and all with his empty fire extinguisher.

"We'd better go get some fresh air," said Ford. "I'll refill the extinguishers and finish this after dinner."

"You're still me," Dipper said thoughtfully.

Ford adjusted his glasses at him. "What do you mean?"

"A lot of times, I feel like I don't know what anyone else is talking about, or what's supposed to be funny. And sometimes they don't explain it to me. Like they don't care whether or not I don't understand. And I thought it was just a kid thing. But you're still me."

Ford arched an eyebrow. "Disappointed?"

"No. It means I'm still going to be me when I'm your age."

********

Dipper grabbed a comic book he had left on the armchair, but could not find his half-finished Pitt Cola on the dinosaur skull, and continued toward the dining nook to find out if it was on the table. He'd left the comic book folded back, and read a page automatically when he picked it up. He was aware in his periphery that the Grunkles were sitting at the table. He stopped and turned to the next page, read it, and looked up. Stan and Ford sat under the single yellow light bulb in the stained-glass fixture, their chairs angled to face each other. They were kissing each other on the lips.

Dipper didn't move. He didn't clear his throat, did not trip over his own toes. He did not make an attempt at nonchalant conversation, nor did he shield his eyes with the back of his hand and say, "Ew, Grunkles!" He watched them while they kissed, Grunkle Stan's fingertips steadying Ford's chin.

Stan wrapped his arms over Ford's shoulders and leaned to murmur something in his ear. Stan pulled back, smiling, and stood up; Ford held Stan's forearm and said, "I'm glad, too."

Stan stroked the hair over Ford's ear. With his other hand he raised his coffee mug. "I need a refill. Want me to reheat yours?"

"I'm fine."

Dipper picked up his soda, feeling as if he'd just risen out of a dream. "Hey. Grunkle Stan. Grunkle Ford."

"Hey, kid."

"Hello, Dipper."

Dipper had been going to go upstairs with his comic book, but he decided to sit down and finish his soda opposite Ford. Dipper cradled the Pitt Cola can in both hands, the way Ford held his coffee mug, and made his sips match the way Ford slowly finished his coffee.

********


	8. Regular Boys

********

"Lazy Susan is going to drive up to school for our pet day, and I'm going to ride with her and take Waddles, so he can visit the school without having to worry about a panther attack. The only problem is that Mitzy-Helen Waldren has a full-grown panther for a pet, and she's bringing it to pet day. I asked her if her panther likes pig, and she said she doesn't know, she's never fed her any. The Waldrens eat kosher, and so does the panther. I might take Waddles's traveling cage, just in case. He hasn't had much use for it since we came here. Soos is making it stronger. Do you want to see if Grunkle Ford will give you the day off school, and you go up with me and Lazy Susan and Waddles, and see all the pets?"

"Sure." Dipper and Mabel were standing in the attic, facing each other, close together while she told him her story. He was watching her hand gestures and expressions out of the corners of his eyes, but really he was looking at her hair.

"Great! There's a grandparents day coming up, and Lazy Susan is going to drive up that day, too, and bring the Grunkles so I can show them off. Maybe Grunkle Ford will bring an invention. Grunkle Stan already promised he'll bring a mysterious abomination, to impress my school. Mr. Hernandez and I declared it also great-uncles day. It's just a technicality that they're grunkles and not grandparents. And Grandpa Sherman is all the way out in New Jersey. I wrote and asked him if he could come for grandparents day, but he said he's going to wait and fly out for my graduation. That's years from now. Of course, we did see him at New Year's. Laurel is bringing two complete sets of two grandparents each. Four cuddly grandparents total. And since Mr. Hernandez says it's great-anythings day, Laurel is also bringing her great-uncle. Of course, she has to share all of hers, because her brothers go to our school. So I think they end up each having one and a half ... one and a third ... fourth ... I'm not sure." Mabel dropped her arms and sighed.

"One and a little more than a half," said Dipper, "if Laurel has two brothers. You get two complete grunkles." Dipper reached out slowly, and stroked the hair over her ear. Mabel distractedly smoothed her hair, right under his fingers, as if he had mussed it.

"Do you think any boy will ever want to kiss me?"

Dipper hovered his hand over her temple but didn't put his fingers back in her hair. "What are you talking about? You've kissed boys."

"A vampire and a merman, yeah. And Argyle will only give me one kiss a summer so far. That's even though I live here year 'round now! Do you think any regular boys will ever want to kiss me?"

Dipper licked his lips. "Uhm, I can't speak for ... regular ... I mean other boys ... I mean somebody wants to kiss you. Already really wants to kiss you. He might, you never know."

"That's nice of you to say, Dipdip." Mabel placed her palm on Dipper's brow, lifted his bangs, and stroked his birthmark with her thumb. "Maybe you shouldn't cover this up. It's so you. Well, gotta go help Soos panther-proof Waddles's cage." And she left.

Dipper stood in the middle of the attic floor, feeling his forehead. He went to the mirror and looked at himself, held his bangs up and winced; he wasn't used to looking much at his birthmark, though he didn't mind it in principle. He tucked his hair under his baseball cap and tilted it so the birthmark would show. "Hmm. Nope." He lifted his cap, pulled his bangs back down and ruffled them into place.

********

A basket bounced off of Dipper's head. "Huckleberries!" said Mabel.

Dipper mumbled, "It's the middle of the night."

"Yes! We agreed we would get started early. The sandwiches are made."

"Wake me when there's a thread of dawn on the horizon."

Dipper felt as if it were a mere minute later when his nape was poked repeatedly. Mabel stretched full-length behind him on his bed. "There's more than a thread of sunlight. There's a whole scarf of dawn on that horizon."

Dipper made a muffled sound and reached back to grasp and stop the poking hand. "You're like living with a puppy."

"And puppies are awesome."

"I'm up."

Waddles wasn't allowed to go, because his method of berrypicking was to root up the whole patch. Mabel promised him huckleberries with half-and-half for his supper, provided she could protect enough huckleberries from Grunkle Ford to have any to share with everyone else.

Mabel wore a floppy white canvas sun hat, and Dipper had his cap. They gathered up baskets and plastic containers and headed for the foothills.

Mabel wanted to take a shortcut through some weeds and climb across a big pile of rocks. Tucked in between two of the rocks lay a rumpled flannel shirt of a familiar red plaid. Dipper lifted a corner and saw it was protecting eight coffee cans, with holes punched in the sides for string handles. Two containers each for four people. So Wendy was here with her brothers. They had left the cans only partially filled.

Mabel elbowed Dipper and nodded at the berry containers. "Look, your old crush is here."

"Yeah, my old—" Dipper's voice pitched higher on 'my', and cracked on 'old'. "I swear my voice is a meter of how close I am to Wendy Corduroy."

Mabel called, "Hello, Corduroys!"

Birdsong ceased for a few seconds, but nothing else changed. There was no answering call. Mabel said, "You can put your Wendy Corduroy detector to use, bro-tector."

"You make it sound as if I detect bros."

"It did sound like that, but I didn't mean it that way. I meant it as a protector and also a brother. It had nothing to do with the detecting thing. If you were a detective you'd be a brotective, but then it also sounds as if you're protective. Which you are." She narrowed her eyes at a line of bushes that progressed up the slopes. "Those sneaky Corduroys are around here somewhere. The big trees ahead are way too obvious for a hiding place."

"They didn't expect us to get off the path here," said Dipper. "They'll be lying in wait in someplace where all four of them can hide, on the path we usually take. Your shortcut showed us their hidden stuff. Hey guys," he called, and his voice squeaked a little. "We know you're out here."

"Mmmmm," said Mabel, "berries," and she slowly ate one. She made a loud announcement: "I could sit down on this rock and eat every last one of these tasty berries."

Wind rustled the grass. Mabel lay on her back on a big lichen-covered stone and chewed on the Corduroys' berries.

The grass sneezed.

"Dangit, Gus," said Wendy's voice.

"Get 'em!" shouted Marcus.

Wendy hollered, "Flannel attack!"

A balled-up flannel shirt struck Dipper's nose. Marcus leapt up from behind a rock and came at Dipper, holding open an unzipped red plaid flannel sleeping bag. Dipper knotted up the shirt except for one sleeve, which he used to swing the shirt around over his head, and bring it down on Marcus's skull. Marcus tackled him, wound him in the sleeping bag, took them both down, and wrapped Dipper up. Dipper thwacked valiantly with the shirt, but it was no use. Marcus zipped him up and left him on the ground, struggling against the sleeping bag.

Gus strove to get a fleece-lined, plaid flannel hat on Mabel, but he wasn't tall enough. She put it on him, turned it sideways, and pulled an ear flap down over his eyes.

Dipper fought his way out of the sleeping bag and got flannel revenge on Marcus, yanking the whole zipped sleeping bag over his head and shoulders. While Dipper still had his arms around him, Marcus grabbed him above the elbow, through the sleeping bag, and tossed him onto his back, on the grass. Dipper stood up, brushing grass and dirt off his butt, and something silky tickled his nose.

He tried to flick it off, hampered by the flannel oven mitt that Wendy had forced onto his hand. Fine hairs went up his nostrils. "That's not flannel. Did you just ... rub a squirrel on my face?"

"Sorry," said Kevin. "There wasn't enough flannel to go around. It was the best I could come up with on short notice." The squirrel gave a furious chatter and flailed out of Kevin's grasp. It skittered away so fast it seemed to sail across the grass.

Flannel shirts with nobody inside them littered the field. Gus turned his hat around the right way and began to collect them. Dipper wore Wendy's ear-flaps hat, Mabel was in Dipper's cap, and Wendy's hair was bedecked in a wreath of daisies.

"Fastest flower weaver in the West," said Mabel. She blew on her finger and holstered it at her hip. Her hand came into contact with plaid flannel pajama pants. "Ooh, soft. I don't remember how I got into these, but they're so comfortable I don't care."

"You can keep them," said Wendy. "There are more where those came from. Okay, guys," she said to her brothers, "get your berries. Time to march back to the truck. We're done for the morning. Dipper, Mabel, we didn't touch that patch in the timber where you guys always pick."

Dipper's voice was high-pitched and hoarse, all the way through a polite, "Thanks, Wendy. See you around."

Marcus started a race to be the first to the cooler of baloney sandwiches in the truck, and the Corduroys vanished in a noisy cloud of dust on the trail.

Dipper's throat was scratchy and tight. He stopped to double over and collect himself, and Mabel patted his back. He straightened up, thumped his chest once, and coughed. "I'm good. Voice is good. Why do I keep talking around her? 'Thanks, Wendy' would have been good enough. I cannot be twelve around Wendy for the rest of my life. It's impractical. And embarrassing."

"Face it, bro. You'll always be a little bit twelve around your first crush. Just like I'll always be a little bit twelve around those chalky candy rings you can eat right off of your finger."

"Like the kind you're wearing right now."

Mabel lifted her pinky and slurped the ring. She smacked her lips thoughtfully. "Are you still in love with her after all this time?"

"My voice thinks I am. I dunno. It's not the same."

"You need to fall in love again."

Dipper could not, would not answer that. Mabel didn't seem to mind. She stuck her candy-ringed finger under his nose. "Want a lick?"

"No, thank you. No offense, but I don't know where that thing's been."

Mabel licked it again. "Good call. I rubbed it on Waddles for luck before we left."

Dipper laughed. "I don't understand you."

"I'm the wind, baby."

The trail led the wrong way around a wood, beyond where they wanted to go, so Mabel and Dipper waded into the grass again to get around the thickest stand of trees to an open place on one end. Raspy edges of wiry bear grass leaves trailed over their ankles. They tramped on into taller, softer, bending grasses

They passed Lazy Susan, who hummed to herself while she picked. She waved and called hello. Purple stains speckled her apron. She picked berries hatless: a secret werelynx power she had shared with Dipper for the journals was that she didn't get sunburned.

Mabel said, "We have to remember to tell the Grunkles there'll be huckleberry pancakes at Greasy's."

Dipper and Mabel arrived at the opening in the deciduous woods where berries spread in dappled shade.

"This is called clean picking, what we do," Mabel informed Dipper as she picked one huckleberry after another into her palm, and dropped a few at a time into her plastic container. "You can get plastic combs for it nowadays, but the cool thing is, in history, some American Indians used to make rakes out of salmon spines and ribs, to make picking go faster. You can pick huckleberries using fish bones!"

Dipper bit down hard on his tongue. When he opened his mouth his words were measured and clear. "That's really interesting, Mabel. Thanks for letting me know."

Mabel turned on him and stamped her foot. "You knew that already?"

"I'm, uh—"

"Never mind," Mabel moaned. She returned to bush she was picking. "Never mind," she repeated. "Of course you knew it already. And you were being nice to me."

"Sorry," said Dipper.

"I know you're sorry," Mabel said wearily. She slowly filled her plastic bucket, grabbed a basket, then dropped the basket with a shout of, "Frog!" and dove into the tangled brush. She came up grinning, holding her sun hat upside-down, folded so as to keep something inside of it. She parted the sides of the hat with her thumbs and took a peek. "I got him!" She showed Dipper a tree frog, a couple of inches long. "Look at the little guy."

"I suppose Grunkle Ford won't be too happy if I pass up a chance to sketch wildlife." Dipper sat on a log and balanced his sketch pad on one knee, while Mabel placed the frog on his other knee. "How do I draw these eyes? Why does anatomy have to be so difficult? There, if I emphasize the thick stripes on the side of his head you can tell what kind of frog he is."

Mabel sang, "Grunkle Ford'll know that's cheating, you could do better."

"I'm trying. The long toes are kinda fun." Dipper held a ruler next to the frog to check the scale of his drawing. He showed the frog the portrait for its consideration, then nudged it off of his knee and got back down among the berries. Mabel was no longer moving slowly from bush to bush. She darted around, lifting leaves. Dipper stood and stretched his back. His knees were crisscrossed with red marks and broken greenery. "Mabel, are you even picking berries anymore?"

"I'm picking frogs! Look at this little guy! He could literally fit up my nose! He's so tiny!"

"Please don't stuff a frog up your nose."

"I'm not. My nose is merely a field unit of measurement."

Dipper kept up a businesslike gathering of berries, until he became mesmerized with rolling them off the stems; after that, he frequently sat on the ground to enjoy an absentminded nibble. The bloom on the berries gave them an unreal appearance, as if they were growing in a mist. His fingers grew darkly and deliciously stained.

Dipper noticed a ripple of motion in a full basket Mabel had left on a log, and he cupped his fingers through the berries until he came up with a frog. "Seriously? I swear it's turned purple."

"He likes it in there," said Mabel. "It's moist and berry, berry delicious."

The moon was to be full that night, and Mabel argued that there would be plenty of light to easily get home by even if they stayed until all of their containers were heaped full. The moon lit up the fields like a greyscale late afternoon as they walked back the way they had come, frogless, but hauling a wealth of huckleberries.

They arrived at the silvered dirt footpath, and took it through a pure black archway of trees. Mabel was cheerfully remarking how badly her feet and socks needed a wash when Dipper stopped her with a hand on her wrist. "Shh. I thought I heard something big."

The trees parted ahead, at a clearing so well-lit the center looked golden, with smoky white edges. Across this opening bounded something, its long feet scratching the ground. It seemed to pull itself with long ape arms, and its sharply silhouetted shoulders disturbed tree branches higher than Dipper's head. "Not big. Huge. Turn around and go quickly and calmly back to the field where we have open space. Then we can see what we're dealing with. If we're lucky, it won't even follow us out of the woods."

"It's light up ahead," Mabel objected, and began to run. "We can get there faster than to the field!"

Dipper grabbed her arm just before she burst into the open. "Get behind me, Mabel. Don't be afraid. Stay calm. It's the full moon, it could be a lycanthrope."

"Dipper! Will we be changed into a ravening monsters, with no memory of our horrible deeds every full moon, leaving us with no choice but to lock each other up in our attic room in chains?"

"How would we even ... never mind. Stay calm. I have charms to keep it away, and science we can use in case it bites us." Dipper set down his bucket and baskets so his hands would be free to grab whatever he needed from his backpack. He kept his eyes up, watching the clearing. Leaves and branches touched by moonlight stood out, sharply outlined in pearl colors, and any place in shadow was black. 

Between a pair of bigleaf maples rose what looked like a slope covered in flattened, fine grass, highlighted in waves of moonlight. But Dipper often walked through this clearing. There was no slope in that spot, and what at first looked like grass was too soft, and too shimmering. It was fur, and it covered the mountainous back of some creature. The creature lifted a foreleg and drew its foot across the top of its head, smoothing its fur. Dipper relaxed a smidgen. Whatever this thing was, it was not paying attention to him.

"Mabel, walk back under those trees. I'll follow you. I'll come backwards and keep a watch on it, then we'll go another way around."

Mabel said, "Hey, I think—"

The monster took a step to make a turn in their direction. What Dipper had thought was a pointed shoulder was a high-set elbow. The forearm ended in a lumpy wrist, with a long, slender toe and a claw the size of Dipper's shin. The thing's tremendous ears quivered. Its face came into view and round eyes reflected the moon.

The creature took two quick steps toward Mabel.

Dipper stuck his arm in his backpack to dig for a smoke bomb. "Vampire bat. It's a vampire bat. It can fly. Change of plans. Going out in the open will do no good. Our only chance is to get inside someplace where it's too big to follow. There. That log. Do not make any sudden moves. No, Mabel! Mabel! Just because it's fuzzy doesn't mean you have to touch—"

Mabel set down her berry containers and opened her arms wide to the bat. "Angus!"

"Hi, Mabes." The bat cleared its throat. "Hey, how you doing, Dipper."

"Okay what?"

"It's Angus!" said Mabel.

"What?"

Mabel made begging, graspy fingers at Angus. "Boost me up." She scrambled over the wrist and hung onto the bony arm. Angus raised his forearm and dumped Mabel onto his head.

Dipper had not been able to fish a smoke bomb out of his backpack, but had pulled up a string of fat garlic bulbs.

"Dipper," said Mabel, "that's rude."

Dipper zipped his garlic back into his pack.

"Come on up here," said Mabel. "Angus, can you help him, please? Dipper, come on up. Jump on his wrist."

The bat’s toe had wrinkly skin and only a few hairs. To keep his balance on Angus's leg, Dipper gripped a thin border of wing membrane. Under his palm was a velvety, flocking-like coating of short fur. The bat's teeth were so sharp they were translucent. He had worry-wrinkles in the fur across his forehead, his eyes were underlined by circles of crinkled skin, and he had a deep double outline around his pug nose. His ears had a series of crosswise ridges. At Angus's shoulder, where Mabel helped Dipper up, the fur was longer, and wavy over the top of the wing.

"I always thought vampires turned into proportionately smaller bats."

"Isn't he precious?" Mabel sank bodily into the fur on Angus's nape. "Hah, you were so afraid he was a werewolf. I bet you feel silly now that you know he's only a vampire."

"Does Argyle turn into a giant vampire bat, too?"

Mabel said, "No. He turns into a unicorn."

"Are you kidding me?"

Mabel tossed her head and smiled naughtily. "I might be."

Dipper patted Angus's head. "Is she kidding me?"

Angus shrugged, lifting and tilting Dipper on his shoulder. "He doesn't turn into a giant unicorn or a fancy one or anything. Just a regular little one. But yeah, it's really what he turns into."

Dipper folded his arms. "It's just like Argyle to turn into a unicorn."

Mabel laughed, and Dipper huffed.

"Angus loves being scratched behind the ears." Mabel went to work on the right ear.

Dipper pushed his fingers into the coat behind Angus's left ear. Having recently had a squirrel shoved in his face, Dipper could attest that Angus was silkier even than a squirrel. Dipper’s fingers caught up a narrow leather cord.

"That's my string for my consecrated earth that I keep around my neck." After another minute or two of ear-petting, Angus set his wing at an angle so Dipper and Mabel could slide backward down his forearm. They recovered their berries and walked along the path. Angus loomed behind them, his claws scuffling on the hard earth. 

They came to a second clearing, where there was room for Angus to spread his wings. "I'll say goodnight here." Dipper and Mabel looked back. Reflections of the white moon curved over Angus's huge eyes. "You two be all right walking home in the dark?"

"It's not dark," said Dipper. "With the moon this bright It's practically daylight. Er, no offense."

"I don't get offended by mentions of daylight," said Angus.

Dipper felt an embarrassed voice-crack coming on and cleared his throat before speaking. "We'll be fine by ourselves."

"Thanks for asking," said Mabel.

"All right, then. See you around." Angus hopped into the air.

"'Bye, Angus!"

"It's nice of him and all, but he doesn't need to worry," said Dipper. "I know my way around these woods as well as any vampire does."

"I don’t think he's really worried," said Mabel. "I think he thinks you're cute."

Dipper blew between his lips, making a skeptical noise.

"Anyway, you think he's cute."

Dipper's hum in response this time was slightly less skeptical.

********


	9. Cajun Dance

********

"Argyle was kissing you."

"Yeah," answered Mabel dreamily. "He was."

"You're telling me he waited all summer, just for it to be our birthday, and then he gave you your one kiss of the summer?"

"That one just now was the second kiss this summer. He gave me one at the beginning of summer, then I asked him for a kiss for my birthday. He was reluctant at first. He wanted to stick to his word of one kiss a summer."

"He didn't look too reluctant."

"It's my Sweet Sixteen, so he had to say yes. Two vampire kisses in one summer!" Mabel victoriously pumped her fists.

"It's my Manly Sixteen, and I will punch that kissing vampire on the nose if he tries to take it too far."

"He won't," sighed Mabel, with a little pout.

"I'd really rather you didn't sound so disappointed about that."

"He's such a gentleman that he won't even cop a feel!"

"Ugh! Mabel!" Dipper covered his ears, but he could still hear Mabel's laughter.

********

Dipper remembered outside Candy's door to remove his cap and ruffle the crease out of his hair. She answered his knock and smiled when she saw him. He greeted her and said, "The Cajun band, the Found Bayou Ramblers, are going to be at the high school gym on Saturday. Will you go with me—as friends?"

"Yes, Dipper, I would like to do that."

"Okay, good. Great. Um, this is a real, genuine invitation, and you are my friend, but, uh ... because you are my friend, I should admit up front that I'm sort of using you. Argyle is taking Mabel, and he's dropped his one kiss a summer thing. It's a real date. You'll be helping me have a reason to go and keep an eye on Mabel and Argyle."

"That is okay. I love the Cajun music. And I, too, have the investment in Mabel's safety."

"I have a further admission: I don't know how to dance."

"I have never danced to the Cajun music," said Candy. "But someone will teach us."

"Okay, good. Great. Thanks for saying yes. This is gonna be fun. I'll come by and get you a little before seven on Saturday."

********

Mabel grabbed Ford and opened his corduroy jacket wider to better see the red outline of a crayfish on his T-shirt. "Grunkle Ford, oh my gosh, it's perfect."

"It's an old one of Stan's," said Ford. "I got to it first."

"I didn't want to get to it," said Stan. "I wanted to dress up for my dates." He tugged the lapels of his suit.

"A crayfish printed on a T-shirt counts as dressed up for a Cajun dance," Mabel declared. She glanced at Dipper. "Do I look okay? You keep staring at me. Are both my earrings in?" She felt the dangling gold shrimp earrings.

"Everything's in place, you look perfect."

"Thank you." She smiled at him and twirled to make the white ruffle on her skirt flare out.

The dance started at seven, but Argyle couldn't pick Mabel up that early. She didn't want to wait and miss any of the dance, so she rode with Lazy Susan, Ford and Stan in the Greasy's van, so that Dipper could pick up his _date_ in the Caddy. While they were getting ready to go, Mabel made several references to Dipper's _date_, always emphasizing the word _date_.

Candy met Dipper at the door. She was wearing her canvas backpack, a long cotton dress with frilly shoulder straps, and, pinned over one ear, an autumn flower that looked like a small orange sunflower.

The gym felt empty when they first arrived. There weren't yet a lot of bodies to absorb the music. Candy stashed her backpack under the refreshment table. "Now, I am ready to dance."

"Great," said Dipper. "How do we do that?"

Lazy Susan and Stan had danced onto the nearly empty floor right away, and were jitterbugging with intimidating ease.

Candy said, "There is your great-uncle Ford, and Mabel. They will teach us."

"Grunkle Ford is dancing? I didn't know he could dance."

Candy crossed the floor to Ford and Mabel, near the band's speakers, and cut in with a hand on Ford's arm and a tap on Mabel's shoulder. Mabel let Candy dance with Ford, and flitted over to Dipper. He let her lead him around by one outstretched hand, while she twisted and hopped.

"You can have your uncle back now, Mabel," Candy said when the song was over. "Dipper and I will practice a dance." She held both of Dipper's hands. "It is the two-step. It is simple. You shuffle around the floor, but it has to be in time. Can you keep time?"

"I think so. I can tap my foot." The band had started again, and it was impossible for Dipper not to tap his foot while the accordion was playing.

"You must be my mirror, because we face toward each other. You are the man, so you will lead."

"Right."

Candy let go of Dipper's hand just long enough to push her glasses up. "Wait for the beat."

"Yeah, okay." Dipper got out of step almost immediately, because he was watching a few other couples on the floor, including Stan and Lazy Susan. "Um, sorry, but—other people are doing something way different."

"Mabel and Ford are doing the two-step. Like we are doing. It is all the same beat. It is all the real Cajun dancing."

"Okay, I'll try. Yell if I step on your toes."

"Ford said that is the good thing about the two-step, you must keep your feet close to the floor! So you won't step on me."

As soon as the sun started to go down, Mabel stood by the big double doors to the parking lot, waiting for Argyle. He arrived wearing a sky blue suit. He grinned when he saw Mabel, she lit up, and they jitterbugged onto the floor together.

The band took a five minute break and everyone stopped for punch and vanilla sheet cake, included in the cover charge. Dipper carefully handed Candy a paper plate with a slice of cake, though she was standing where she could have easily gotten it for herself. She beamed at him.

Mabel, flushed and breathless, joined them for punch. She waved at someone who was leaning with his back against the wall. "Hi, Caesar!"

The man was tall, with long, straight black hair in a ponytail. His dense eyebrows and sleepy eyelids had a slant that gave him a sad expression. He gave Mabel not quite a smile, more like a smile-adjacent expression, and didn't move off the wall.

Dipper asked, "Do I know him?"

"He's Argyle and Angus's dad."

"Of course, you mentioned him. I feel like maybe I've seen him around before. But I don't think I've met him."

"Everybody's seen him, and hardly anybody's met him," said Mabel.

Dipper noticed when Angus came in. The double gym doors thunked shut and Angus stood watching the crowd and giving his hair a quick combing. He put his comb back into his pocket and smoothed the sides of his hair with his palms, then came over to the refreshment table and nodded to Dipper. "I didn't bring a date, but I might as well be here. Everyone in town is here. Who's your date? The pretty little girl with the flower? Could you do me a favor and lend me your girl for a dance?"

"Yeah, if it's all right with Candy. Also I think you should disclose that you're a vampire."

Angus flashed Dipper a grin with fang and approached Candy. She listened to him for a few moments, nodded, smiled, waved to Dipper, and then Angus took her off on a waltz.

When the waltz ended, Candy went to talk with a little group of girls and Angus returned to Dipper. "She said I could also borrow you from her if it's okay with you. You want to dance with me?"

"I ... yeah, probably, but I don't know how to dance like that."

"What, the waltz? Wait. My dad needs rescuing. If you don't mind, I'm going to dance a minute with Lazy Susan, but I'll be right back. Don't go far."

Angus danced Susan over to the wall where Caesar was standing, bowed to her and left her there. He hurried back to Dipper and explained, "She'll stand there until he asks her to dance, which is what he wants to do. He's just too shy. All right. Let's dance. What do you know?

"Candy taught me a two-step at the beginning of this night. That's it."

"Then we'll two-step. I just now taught her to waltz, though, so next time they play a waltz, you should try it with her. She's never done it before tonight, either."

"I don't know ..."

"Waltzing anyone can do, it's walking with a one, two, three. All you need to know is to take a step on the one. You fill in the other two steps between the main beats. That _one_ you can hear in the music, so it's no trouble following it."

Dipper found that Angus had taken the lead at their two-step, and Dipper was dancing faster than he had with Candy, because Angus was pulling him along. Between songs, Angus tried to teach Dipper how to waltz. Dipper couldn't get the hang of filling in those two-three steps. "You take me around too fast. The strides are too long for me. I can't catch up to the beat."

"You start out on it just fine. You're afraid of losing it and not picking it up again when we go faster, so you quit before you try. Don't be embarrassed. Forget everybody else."

"Everybody else is more graceful than me."

"That's not true. They lose step sometimes. They pick it up again, fast. Faster than you see them doing it."

Dipper thanked Angus, but soon gave up and handed Candy off whenever the band played a waltz.

He brought Mabel a cup of punch to break up the tail end of a close dance she was having with Argyle. She sipped the punch, and started pointing out other boys on the floor. Three boys around her age attended Quaintsville, and they had all come down to Gravity Falls to hear the band. Mabel had one dance with each of the three, and a second dance with the one she confided to Dipper was the cutest.

Through one of the waltzes Candy stood against the wall with Dipper, silently watching the other dancers. During the applause after the song, Dipper said, "I want to get one dance with Mabel, if I can get her away from Argyle."

"Argyle is a fast dancer. He is too good. But I will try to keep up one time with Argyle, if you grab Mabel between the songs."

Dipper and Candy fist-bumped to confirm this plan. He said, "I wish you luck. Those vampires are fast dancers. Did you see Caesar and Susan when he finally decided to dance?"

Luckily, the next song was one during which Dipper could shuffle around the floor in his newly-acquired two-step. Mabel's two-step was fancier and had a lot more footwork in it than Dipper's, but all he had to do was lead backward while she did whatever she wanted. He had thought they would talk together while they danced, but his attention was on the frilly hem of her skirt as he made sure to keep pace with her and stay out of the way of her sideways kicks.

Dipper saved the last dance for Candy, but Angus requested the second to last one, and let Dipper lead a two-step.

The band wound down. Lazy Susan spread the word that she was going to unlock Greasy's for sodas, sundaes, and milkshakes.

"I'll buy you a milkshake or a sundae, Mabel," Argyle said.

"I'll buy one for Candy," said Dipper.

"I'll be the fifth wheel and buy my own," said Angus.

At the diner, Dipper put on an apron over his button-down and jeans, and helped Lazy Susan with the orders. Whenever Dipper wanted to get out of the Science Cave (which was a nickname for the lab, but also, sometimes, an actual cave), he went to Greasy's, bused tables and washed dishes, earned a little extra cash and socialized with tourists and locals. He hoped to start learning to cook soon.

Susan told him to go sit with his friends as soon as their table's orders were all ready, but Dipper also wanted to learn to wait tables, so he took off his apron and brought out a tray full of sodas and milkshakes. Nobody seemed to notice or care that he carried the tray on one hand, but it felt privately like an impressive feat.

Dipper waited for a break in the lively conversation, then repeated a science joke of Grunkle Ford's, and was triumphant when Candy snorted her strawberry milkshake. Nobody else at the table got it, but that didn't matter.

Dipper drove Candy home and walked her to her front door. She adjusted her backpack on her shoulder and said, "Thank you for the friendship date. If there is another band sometime, you may ask me to go with you, and I will say yes."

Dipper rubbed the back of his neck. "Is a kiss supposed to happen on a friendship date?"

"It can happen. We have to figure out what sort of kiss it will be, before we bump into each other's faces and give ourselves nose bruises."

"Okay, you hold still and I'll steady you by the shoulder and kiss you on the forehead."

"Yes." Candy squeezed her eyes shut. "Do it."

Dipper felt like he managed a pretty good forehead-kiss. He pulled back, and Candy was smiling and twinkling her eyes at him. He grinned. "Okay, goodnight, Candy. I had a great time."

Argyle had driven Mabel home, and she was waiting up for Dipper, out on the porch in the chilly air. Her feet were on the top step, her hands holding her skirt down over her knees. She was looking into the woods, smiling a little to herself, but she beamed and waved when Dipper pulled up.

She walked to the car, rubbing her arms and shivering. "Will you be going out with Candy again?"

"Have you been waiting out here in the cold to ask me that?"

Mabel shrugged, and the shrug shivered all the way down her arms. She looked at him expectantly. "Will you?"

"As friends," said Dipper.

"Aw, I want Candy to fall in love with you, and you to fall in love with Candy. She's the best, and you're also the best. It would be perfect!" She hugged herself. "Get me warm. I guess I have to admit that it's fall, at least at night."

Dipper held his arm open. Mabel bumped into his side and put her arm around his waist. He said, "There is a warm room literally five feet behind where you were sitting. Need me to teach you how to work a doorknob?"

"You're the doorknob!"

"Ooh, I, uh, walked right into that one?"

"Darn right. Hah! You didn't even see it coming." Mabel leaned on Dipper, and he kept his arm around her as they walked up the steps and into the Mystery Shack.

********


	10. Drive-In Date

********

Dipper rapped two knuckles twice on the attic bedroom door, then cracked it open. "Mabel?"

Mabel was on her bed with a book. She sat up straight and narrowed her eyes. "Why did you knock?"

Dipper slipped into the room through the half-open door, shoulders lowered. He wrung his hands. "I didn't mean to do it."

"What did you do?"

Dipper sat on his bed. "I graduated high school."

"What? When?"

Dipper glanced toward the door. "Just now." The tilt of his head indicated the sub-basement lab.

"What? Why? Why didn't you wait?"

"I wanted to, Mabel. I really did."

Mabel glowered with her arms folded. When Dipper pleaded, "Don't look at me that way," her frown tightened.

"Grunkle Ford didn't give me any warning. He had me answer math questions while we were working in the lab, and then he told me I'd passed, and congratulated me. He told me I've completed his requirements to graduate high school. I'm sorry, Mabel, I didn't know."

Mabel pushed her pillow out of the way, lay down on her side with her knees tucked up, and pulled a blanket over her head.

Dipper made a small sound of protest and sympathy. "Don't hide under the blankets."

Mabel wriggled and thumped on the mattress until she had covered herself completely, with the blanket snug under her knees and rear and over her toes. Her muffled voice asked, "When is Grunkle Ford going to give you your diploma?"

"He wants to do it this weekend. Can you be nice to him about this? He doesn't know there's anything wrong."

A moment passed, then: "I'll be nice. Let me know when there's an hour or two left before the ceremony, so I can shower and get dressed up."

"That's at least two days from now."

"I know."

"I suppose it's too much to hope that we might see you before then?"

"I'm in my processing cocoon."

"What can I do to get you to come out, or, uh, emerge?"

Mabel made a noncommittal noise and the lumpy cocoon shuffled and creased. "I feel like you're leaving me behind, and we're both right here."

"I'm not leaving you behind. I'll be studying with Grunkle Ford. I'm still with you, really.”

"You can't help it. You'll always be smarter than me."

"What would make it better? What can I do?"

"I don't know."

"Would it help at all, even just a little bit, if I bought you a hot fudge sundae? It's not the same as graduating together, but I can't really think of any equivalents to matching academic timelines."

"A hot fudge sundae would be a small start. I'll get ready." Mabel flung the blanket away, leapt off the bed, and dove behind her gorgeous 1930s Oriental-style changing screen. Stan had bought it for her at the flea market. All she did was go all big-eyed and touch it with one finger, and Stan forked over the cash, saying, "Ouch," and wincing as he handed over bills one by one.

"Who are you and what have you done with our Grunkle Stan?" Dipper had demanded.

"Your sister's a girl," Stan had said. "She needs someplace pretty to put on dresses."

Mabel adored the screen. She never stuck it with stickers. A plush toy alligator stretched across the tops of two of the panels.

Mabel emerged in a T-shirt printed with a smiling anthropomorphic sundae with a cherry and whipped cream, and the words _My Favorite Day is Sundae!_ She sat on the edge of her bed and tied on canvas sneakers.

"Are those printed with ice cream cones?"

"Yep! Thanks for noticing."

"You're, uh, impressively prepared. How do you have specific shoes for things like ice cream sundae eating?"

"It's not that hard. The key to having an outfit for every occasion is to purchase timeless, versatile pieces that almost all coordinate with each other. Ice-cream print shoes are appropriate for the diner, when eating ice cream; otherwise wear a pancake ensemble. These particular sneakers are also perfect for summer and spring birthday parties, picnics, ice cream socials, and church. Now I clip on plastic shoelace charms to show the kind of ice cream we'll be having, to wit: sundaes—and I'm ready to go." She hopped up and reached for Dipper's hand.

Dipper took hold of her hand. "Now you've made me feel underdressed."

"Don't feel bad." Mabel gave him a small smile. "We can't all be good at the same things."

********

The pale pink Cherry Car looked ghostly in the dark when Angus pulled up at the Mystery Shack. Dipper watched him from the window, wondering what he'd come for. Angus stood by the car for some moments, combing his hair. He headed to the private entrance door, and Dipper pulled it open as soon as he knocked.

Angus cleared his throat. “Hey.”

“Hello,” said Dipper.

“I was wondering if you would want … I mean if you and your sister would want to—if you and Mabel would like to go to the drive-in movie theatre. With me and Argyle.”

"I can ask Mabel. I'm sure she’ll want to go."

Angus said, "Mabel is Argyle's best girl, so I guess they'd go together, and if we all go in Cherry Car, that's me and you without dates. Do you want to go with me?"

Dipper stepped out onto the porch with Angus, and took a moment to think this over. "Are you asking me because you don't want to go without a date? Or did you ask if me and Mabel both want to go, because if you asked me for myself, I might say no, so you wanted to disguise asking me out as asking me and Mabel together?"

"The second one. I think. If I can keep up with your logic."

"You really wanted to ask me personally?"

"Yeah. I wasn't sure you liked vampires."

"Okay, then yes, I'll go. I would have gone anyway. It sounds fun. But I wanted to know if I was being asked on a date for me, or so you'd look cool. Not that—not that anybody would ask to be seen with me so they'd look cool. I mean so you'd have a date when Argyle has one."

"I want to take you on a date."

"Okay, so I'll go."

Angus gave him a little smile, then looked over his shoulder off into the woods somewhere; Dipper looked at the porch and snuck glances up at Angus, and both of them slid the toes of their shoes along the porch floor boards.

"What's showing?" Dipper asked.

"Some vampire teenage beach movie. And _Bedknobs and Broomsticks_."

********

On the night of the drive-in movie, Mabel wore a blue dress with cherry red polka dots. One of her sneakers had a cherry charm on the laces, the other had two charms: a set of vampire fangs, and a broom. 

Dipper worried about who would sit in the back seat during the film. He didn't think he would make very attentive company for Angus in the front seat, let alone be able to follow the movie, if Mabel sat in the back with Argyle.

When Cherry Car first pulled in at the outdoor theatre, Dipper spied the Corduroy pick-up, and for a minute forgot about the back seat problem in his resolve not to spend the entire evening trying to see if Wendy were in the truck, and if Robbie were with her. As it turned out, Angus sat sideways in the driver's seat with the door open and the heel of one shoe propped in the door opening, and Argyle, Mabel, and Dipper sat on a quilt on the gravel of the parking area. Mabel spent a lot of the first feature murmuring questions about vampire veracity into Argyle's ear.

The vampire teenage beach movie ended, and Mabel jumped up and danced to the fast 50s guitar that played over the end credits. She removed Angus's cool shades from his face and put them on herself, begged for his black leather jacket and put that on, too. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and tied it with a bootlace that Argyle had in his pocket. She went back to dancing, wiggled her hips and twirled her skirt, and smiled over her shoulder at Dipper. "Dipper, look. Rockabilly princess!"

On his mental list of the social dangers associated with this night, Dipper had not thought of having to withstand his twin sister wearing his date's leather jacket. He turned his back in a hurry and croaked, "I gotta go order one of everything the concession stand sells." He further indicated where he was headed by pointing in the direction of the concession stand, and followed his finger in the direction in which it was pointing.

"Get extra of those flat-topped pre-wrapped ice cream cones!" Mabel called after him.

The concession stand was made out of brick, with a roof over the counter and kitchen, but no front wall; it was all open-air. Dipper put in an extensive order, and a guy in a paper hat gave him a number. Dipper could have gone back to the car and waited for his number to be called over the loudspeaker, but in self-preservation he deliberated over the candy display instead. The concession stand lights tinted the red plastic counter, the candy wrappers, and even Dipper's skin a dense amber, as if everything had been doused in popcorn butter.

Dipper built a mountain of candy on the counter, paid for it, and scooped it all up in both hands. He pressed it against his chest and turned away from the counter, so as not to hold up the line of customers. The crinkly candy wrappers rubbed against and bounced off one another. The more Dipper tried to hold on, the more the pile threatened to fall to the gritty red floor, with its ominous patina of flattened snacks. A piece popped out of his grasp and he bent double and caught it with his elbow against his thigh. Candy was in danger of escaping under his elbows and chin.

Angus appeared, stooped and grabbed a piece that slipped off the top, and helped support the bottom of the bunch, so Dipper could straighten up again.

Angus smiled at him. "Thought you might need some help with the food." 

"Yeah, it looks like I might. Thank you."

Angus asked the guy behind the counter, "Can I have a basket?" and received a perforated fake-woven plastic burger basket, into which he dropped the piece of candy he had saved. Dipper unloaded the rest of the candy into it and took the basket from Angus. Angus headed back toward the car, but Dipper hesitated. Angus looked back. "Aren't you bringing that to Cherry Car?"

Dipper shrugged one shoulder in the direction of the counter. "I ordered a bunch more stuff. I'll wait." He leaned back against the brick wall, the basket of candy in both hands.

"I'll wait with you," said Angus. He supported himself with his hand on the wall, facing Dipper. The way he leaned on his hand brought his face close to Dipper's. Angus’s white T-shirt hugged his upper arms, and he wore his shiny leather bag of consecrated earth on three or four loops of thin black leather cord around his neck.

"That reaches all the way around your neck when you're a bat?"

"Sure. My neck isn't that big around. I'm mostly fluff." A strand was falling out of Angus's neatly slicked-back hair, onto his forehead. Dipper wanted to pull it down and mess it all up. He kept his hands firmly on his plastic basket of candy.

Angus asked, "What number are we?"

"Um, fifty-four."

"I'll help you listen for it."

"Yeah, okay." Dipper cleared his throat.

"What did you order?"

"Um ... Sodas, popcorn, nachos, hamburgers, cheeseburgers, chili dogs ... fried chicken drumsticks ... ice cream. I think that's it. Oh, and chili cheese fries."

"You forgot the cheese curds. We have to get some of those. I'll pay for some when we pick up your order." Angus pointed at the basket with his free hand. "May I have a piece or two of this while we wait for the rest of the food?"

"I don't know," Dipper teased dryly. "Can you even eat candy?"

"I can when some _nice_ person lets me have a piece."

"I think I'd better let you have it if you want it. What am I going to do, hide it behind my back? Besides, I must be in thrall to you, or something, by now. You're a vampire, and you've got me kind of pinned against the wall."

"You're not in thrall to me yet."

"'Yet?'"

"For that I would have to be hungry—"

Dipper opened his mouth to speak.

"—for something other than candy, of course."

Dipper shut his lips. He wasn't used to looking into Angus's eyes. Mabel still had the shades, so Dipper could see Angus looking right into his eyes, and he wondered how many times Angus had looked at him like this before, and he hadn't known because of those shades.

Angus said, "And if I was hungry, I would touch your skin ..." He stroked Dipper's jawline, then ran the backs of his fingertips down the side of his neck, so softly it nearly tickled. "Like this. And you would let me do whatever I wanted."

"I would let you do whatever you wanted with me, right now," Dipper admitted. "What are you doing to me, really? How are you overriding all of my anti-vampire-mind-control charms?"

"I'm not using mind control."

"Ah-ha, so that's how you're overriding them!"

Angus dipped his head and spoke close to Dipper's neck, under his ear. "I'm not going to bite you."

"Darn," said Dipper. "I mean, good."

Angus straightened up again and licked his lips. "I don't use that kind of magic on purpose. To make it happen, I would have to want to drink your blood, and I'm not hungry. I ate before we picked up you and Mabel. I thought it might be rude to drink your blood on a first date."

"Hi, Dipper," a familiar voice said.

"Oh, hey, Wendy." Dipper's voice pitched a little higher and rougher, but didn't exactly crack.

Angus leaned back against the wall next to Dipper, grinning.

Wendy and Robbie were together, and both carried ice-cream cones. Dipper's eyes briefly strayed to Wendy's tongue sliding along the side of the ice cream. She chased a vanilla drip on her bottom lip with her tongue, missed it, and lifted the back of her hand to wipe her mouth, but Robbie put his arm around her shoulders and caught the drip with a fingertip.

"Hey, Pines," he said, without taking his eyes away from Wendy's face.

Dipper introduced Angus, and Robbie turned to look at him. "Hey, cool fangs, man. They look real. Where did you get 'em?"

Angus moved his fingers toward the bridge of his nose, as if he'd forgotten he wasn't wearing his shades, and that they weren't there to push up. "My fangs cost more than you'd want to pay." 

"Eh, prob'ly true." Robbie selected a candy bar from Dipper's basket. Wendy also took one for herself, as if Dipper were holding the basket in front of his chest to offer samples to passersby.

Robbie and Wendy walked away, munching candy bars. Dipper elbowed Angus and grinned. "'More than you'd want to pay?' Really?"

Angus smiled. "I thought it was good."

They took their concessions bounty back to Cherry Car. Argyle had turned the car's radio to a rock station between features, and Mabel was still dancing. Dipper took her by the arm and said what he should have said in the first place. "Give me the jacket awhile, Mabel. Angus is my date."

"Aw." Mabel made a little pout, but she took off the jacket and handed it to Dipper, to his great relief. Mabel raised her eyebrows at him and smiled the kind of smile where she stuck out the tip of her tongue. "Must be going well, huh?"

"Yes," Dipper said shortly. He turned away and held the jacket close around himself. It was thin, but heavy. Angus slung an arm over Dipper's shoulder. Dipper asked, "Is this okay?" and opened the jacket slightly to indicate it.

"Yeah, it's okay. What about this, is this cool?" Angus squeezed Dipper with the arm slung over his shoulder.

"It's good." Dipper's main emotion was still one of relief that Mabel had relinquished the leather jacket. He was less pleased that she immediately borrowed a plaid flannel shirt from Argyle, but then he had to admit to himself that he wasn't being fair.

The blanket on the ground became littered with a hill of paper and plastic baskets and wrappers. _Bedknobs and Broomsticks_ ended, Mabel yawned, Dipper got up stiffly; his rear end had started to get chilly. He lifted Angus's jacket off of his shoulders, turning his head and pausing to get a whiff of leather from the collar. Then he gave Angus his jacket back.

They all drove back to the Mystery Shack, and Argyle and Mabel claimed the living room armchair. On the porch, with the door open, Dipper said to Angus, "I'm, uh, inviting you in, if that's a thing that you need me to do, and also, you can come up to my room, but it won't be weird, we'll sit on the bed on top of the covers, it's just, you know, the most comfortable place to talk."

"Sounds fine," said Angus.


	11. A Black Horse

********

Dipper sat cross-legged halfway down the bed, and Angus sat on the edge. Dipper patted a spot between himself and the chimney. "Make yourself at home." Angus crawled into place. The sleeve of his jacket moved over Dipper's arm, and Dipper allowed himself to softly pinch a crease of it. "I love this thing."

Angus half-grinned, showing a fang. Dipper stared at the fang for a second. "How bad was it, to turn into a vampire? Can I ask how it happened?"

"My dad turned me. Both of us."

"Your dad ... he's a vampire, too, right?"

"Yeah."

"I thought your dad looked familiar at the Cajun dance." Dipper grabbed one of the journals from the lid of his foot locker and flipped to a page on vampires. Long before, Ford had adhered a photo to the page with yellow wood glue. The white border at the bottom of the photograph had a note in Ford's handwriting: "Need Photo Black Horse". Crusty bits of glue flaked off the page as Dipper held it open to show Angus. "Isn't this your dad?"

"Yep, that's him. He hasn't had that Nehru jacket in years."

Dipper picked up a pen, flicked away glue with his pinky and wrote, _Caesar_ next to the picture. "What's this about a black horse?"

"That's what kind of animal he turns into."

"How did this happen? That you all became vampires?"

"Well, first of all, our dad went missing for over a week. Of course we called the police, and we went around to all the neighbors. Everyone helped us look, and the neighbors called to check if he'd shown up, but still nobody'd seen him. Then late one night, Argyle thought one of the horses was out—we had a lot of horses back then—and went out on the lawn to catch him.

"Argyle was gone a long time. I opened the door and yelled out to ask him if he needed any help catching the horse. He didn't answer me. I started out onto the step by the kitchen door. By the light from our yard pole, I could see the horse and Argyle standing on the lawn. Argyle still wasn't answering me. He was holding a halter and lead rope in his hand down by his side, and he was holding his other hand out to the horse, and neither one of them was moving. The horse wasn't one that I knew. He was big and tall and all black. I chirped to the horse and he swung his head around, and his eyes glowed red—I don't mean throwing back a reflection, I mean they gave off light.

"He spoke aloud, and it was Dad's voice. He told me not to get too close. To stay away from him. By then I was pretty scared for Argyle. I went out into the yard and grabbed him by one arm, and he looked at me like he was only then waking up, and asked me what was wrong. I said, 'Why does that thing have Dad's voice?'

"He said, 'Oh, that? That's nothing to worry about.'

"I told Argyle to get into the house, and pushed him through the door myself. I went back out alone and that horse was still on the lawn. I could see a string tied to his mane, and what looked like a little cloth bag attached to it. I thought I could find something out about him if I could get that bag. It might have his owner's name and address in it. I coaxed him, and whoah'd him, and he sidled up and danced, like he was thinking about coming to me, or thinking about running. Finally he made up his mind and took off. I wasn't able to get a hand on him.

"Argyle couldn't remember anything about a talking horse. He thought there was a strange, stray horse that got away from us. I explained everything, and none of it meant anything to him—that is, he understood what I told him, but swore he didn't remember any of it.

"We went looking for the horse the next day, and we found him standing by the creek. He was solid stone. We didn't know what this meant or what to do. The little bag was attached to his mane, and it was stone, too. If there had been a note or anything in it, we couldn't find out. There was still no sign of Dad. That's what we thought.

"That night Dad came back and had to be invited into our own home. He said it had been him on the lawn the night before, and he'd taken some of Argyle's blood. I thought there wasn't a mark on Argyle, but there was a nick on his arm, and Dad said that was from him. It was so good to see him, we didn't care about the magical horse transformation and the glowing eyes. We were a little worried about the blood drinking.

"Dad said it had scared him, too, at first. But he told us he has this friend, a vampire. He comes from Virginia. He was a tourist out here, and he told Dad he hadn't seen enough vampires here for a tourist town. Especially one with all the weirdness we have around here. I guess this fellow's hometown is very weird, too, and he noticed the resemblance when he came to Gravity Falls. He said Gravity Falls had plenty of human tourists to get blood from, and could use more permanent vampires. He wanted to help turn Dad into a vampire, and Dad agreed."

"Why did he agree to that?"

"Because tourists are Gravity Falls's most precious resource."

"For blood drinkers," said Dipper.

"For everyone," said Angus. "For your great-uncle Stan. We can't afford to lose too many people to the supernatural stuff that happens around here."

"But ... you added more supernatural stuff happening around here."

"Right. But if we hadn't, the friend from Virginia said, outsider vampires would come in and take what they wanted. They wouldn't stay around here, wouldn't have to unlive with the consequences of their blood drinking. They wouldn't have to deal with the mess or the mayhem or any damage afterward. So, Dad got turned into a vampire, and he recruited us, too, specifically to protect tourists from Gravity Falls Weirdness, and to keep monsters from attacking them."

"What about biting them and sucking their blood?"

Angus shrugged. "It puts us in a better position to protect them. We are where the tourists are at night. They don't know the dangers of Gravity Falls, and we do."

Mabel's footsteps sounded on the creaky stairs and an instant later she waltzed into the bedroom. "Argyle is taking me roller skating. You guys want to come?"

"I could wallflower, only if Dipper wants to go. I'm hopeless on skates."

"I don't want to go. We'll stay here. You go have fun and be safe, Mabel."

Mabel laughed at him. "Okay, Grunkle Dipper." She grabbed a pair of jeans, went behind her dressing screen and flipped her dress over it. Dipper stared at the polka-dot rockabilly princess dress draped over the screen while Mabel got changed, then watched her leave in jeans and a frilly blouse.

Angus snapped his fingers in front of Dipper's face.

"Oh—sorry. Spaced out."

"That's okay."

Dipper slid a different journal off of the stack of books on his bedside table and held it up. "Do you mind if I write this stuff down? Like, was blood gross the first time you drank it?"

"Yes. I don't mind if you write things down. I mean yes, it was gross. The first time I drank it, I didn't like it at all. The first dose we had to take to turn into vampires was weird, and icky. After that, it ... tasted the same, but I liked it. That part was strange. I felt kinda wrong for wanting more of it."

Dipper scribbled. "So after you drank enough, you turned into a vampire?"

Angus stretched, and looked like he wanted to rest one arm on something, but there was no headboard. He picked at Dipper's pillow. "It has to be the right mixture of vampire and human blood. Thinking of trying it yourself?"

"Definitely no. This is for science. Thank you for the contribution to the journal, by the way. What would you say was the worst—or, uh, the hardest part of becoming a vampire?"

Angus shuffled around, leaned his back against the chimney, and tucked his knees up. "The worst was ... burying Argyle. Alive."

"You had to bury your brother? Like, underground, all the way covered with dirt, bury him?"

"Yeah. In the churchyard. That was the hardest part. I wanted to be buried at the same time, but Dad wouldn't let me. I mean, he wouldn't agree to do it. We had to drink some of Dad's vampire blood mixed with human blood, and he wouldn't let me have any until Argyle had gone through the whole thing. Dad really only wanted one of us to turn with him, and he picked Argyle. He said that it would be selfish of him to take both of us. But I wanted to go, too, if Argyle was doing it. Dad said I had to be sure.

"Dad's friend had helped him get the blood for when he turned—gave him his own vampire blood. Dad intended to tell us all along what was happening, but he thought he had time, you know, between drinking the blood and letting his friend bury him.

"But you really don't think of anything else, after you've had the mixed blood enough times. You need to get buried, so you'll turn into a vampire and not just burn up." Angus made a grasping motion at his own chest. "It's like a strong pull, to get into the ground. Dad didn't know how strong it would be. He would have dug his own grave with his bare hands if he had to.

"Dad and I watched Argyle's grave. It was almost sunrise on the seventh day when he started moving the dirt. We stopped him from digging all the way out and made sure he was touching the consecrated ground so he wouldn't burn. I was really afraid he would burn. But he stayed half in and half out of the grave, and turned to stone right there. Dad asked me if I still wanted to do this, and I said I hadn't changed my mind. So he gave me that concoction to get me to turn. And then I had to be buried."

"Were you buried awake?"

"Yeah."

"Man, I'm sorry."

"That wasn't scary. If you've had enough of the blood, consecrated ground feels like a bed, like a safe place to rest."

Dipper shuddered slightly.

"Is this getting too creepy for you?"

Dipper moved so his upper arm snuggled against Angus's knee. "No, you're cool, we're cool. If you don't mind my asking, what's it like to thirst for the blood of the living?"

Angus shrugged. "It's all right."

"What does it feel like? Do you feel hungry, like for food?"

"Feeling hungry for blood is almost the same as feeling hungry for food. Except, if you get too starved for blood, you can lose control. There's a point in between knowing you're too hungry to be safe, and not caring at all. You know that part is coming—the part where you don't care—at least, I do. So that's the scary thing."

"What has to happen for you to get out of control? Is Mabel safe, out rollerskating with Argyle?"

"She's safe. Argyle ate tonight. He's full. Anyway, he wouldn't drink from Mabel if he was hungry; he'd go to somebody that could handle him. So don't worry about her."

"How long does it take for a vampire to get dangerously hungry?"

"For me, one night without food, you're just hungry. Hungry the way I used to feel a long time ago, as a human, after a long day of work. Not really starved, but you say you're starved. Longer than that, and you start to worry about hurting someone. And not being able to do anything about it."

"Have you ever gotten to that stage?"

"Couple of times."

"So, since you've been turned, what's been a bad, or dangerous ..." Dipper made a frustrated sound. "I'll just ask. Have you ever eaten anybody? Drank all of their blood?"

"Almost."

"Wow. What did you do?"

"Panicked at first. I thought I'd drunk him all up. I spent a lot of time raving about how I was a monster. I really felt like one, but that was not the best use of my time. Finally I came to my senses and called an ambulance for the guy. I checked on him the next day and he didn't remember it. I do, though."

"So this wasn't ... recent?"

"No."

Dipper cupped his palm over Angus's knee. "When's the last time you got so hungry you might have hurt someone? Does that happen a lot?"

"No. Not a lot. The trail lights—that's a time it happened to me recently, when you and Ford installed sunlight lamps on the mountain. We were not ready for that, and I'm used to flying around, wherever I want to go, without thinking about things like that."

Dipper clicked his tongue. "Sorry about that. I didn't know we should be warning anybody."

"And Mabel didn't know those were daylight lamps, not at first, or she would have warned us. One of the lights got me when I was flying over, and I couldn't control where I came down, because my wing got all stony before I could do anything about it. I guess what happened is that I landed under another one of the lamps, and there I sat, until Ford turned off the lights. This was in winter. Possibly he shut them off for Mabel's weekend off from school, or one night they didn't come on automatically until after the sun went down. Anyway, I woke up starved. I knew that if I came across a delicious and stupid tourist, I'd addle his mind so he'd be calm, and I wouldn't care what I did to him after that. I was so glad when the first person I found was Mr. Wentworth—Lazy Susan's father. He gave me a good slap with his claws when I drank too much."

"Oh, this is good information. What can someone like me do, if a vampire—yourself or any one that gets stuck waking up hungry—what should I do to prepare for that?"

"Get good at punching."

Dipper grinned.

Angus tapped the page. "Write that down. You're not writing it down."

"All right, okay, 'get good at punching'." Dipper gestured around the attic with his pen. "Obviously you don't shapeshift every night, or you wouldn't look like a human right now. Can you do it whenever you want? Could you shapeshift right now, for example?"

Angus glanced at the peaked ceiling, and from wall to wall. "Sure, I could do it now if I wanted to." He gave Dipper a look. "I'd have to take my clothes off, though."

"Heh, um, well, we'll leave it as reported by a reliable vampire that he can shift whenever he wants to. I already wrote down that I saw you in your bat form, on a full moon, but that I didn't see you while you were changing. I tried to draw you."

"Let me see." Angus took the journal. "Is that what I look like?"

"My drawing needs work. I need to practice vampire bats. Your fur is definitely that fuzzy, though. I worked hard on that."

Angus handed the book back. "Do you like spending time with me, or do you only want to find out what the rules are for vampires, for your books?"

Dipper put the journal aside. "Let's do something else. Something fun, you pick. You're not the first person to point out I can be an obsessive jerk."

"You're not a jerk. I wanted to know if you invited me in only for your scientific research."

"Of course not. Pick a game, or anything else you want to do together."

"Let's go sit on the roof."

"Okay. I'll meet you there. Let me run down for some colas to fill the cooler."

The night was filled with low-hanging, deep blue clouds. Dipper and Angus sat next to each other on the shingles.

"This isn't a science question, I don't have the journal with me out here, I'm asking for personal reasons. Do you like being scratched behind the ears when you're a bat, only, or ..."

"You offering?"

"Yeah, I kind of am. If that's not weird."

Angus leaned slightly in Dipper's direction. Gingerly Dipper rubbed behind Angus's ear with the tip of his middle finger. Angus tilted his neck and hummed in approval.

Dipper felt he should do something besides slide his finger up and down, to vary the sensation, but Angus didn't complain, and leaned in a little closer. Dipper said, "If you put your head in my lap, or something, it'll be easier for me to reach your other ear."

"Make a lap," said Angus, for they were both sitting with their knees tucked up. Dipper sat cross-legged, and Angus immediately flopped across his thighs and hooked a finger in one of his belt loops. Dipper rubbed with a finger as he had been doing, then, without really thinking about it, he began scratching with two fingernails behind Angus's ear. His third finger naturally landed on Angus's earlobe, so Dipper scratched there, too. Angus sighed luxuriously. "That feels great." After a while he asked, "Want me to return the favor?"

"I dunno. Is that weird? I'm not even a part-time fluffy bat. It seems like it'd be less weird to be rubbed behind the ear, if I were some kind of an animal."

"Let's see if you like it."

"Like, with the lap thing and all?"

"Yeah, just lie in my lap."

Dipper laid his hand on Angus's knee and his cheek on his thigh. Angus circled his finger on the bony spot just behind the shell of Dipper's ear. The pressure was pleasant, but not different from being randomly rubbed anywhere else. "Okay." Dipper hummed thoughtfully. "Little higher ... right—ah!" He shrugged, rolled his neck, and gave a long sigh. "Okay, I totally see what animals and vampires get out of this." He sighed again and cuddled into Angus's lap.

There came a cool drop on Dipper's cheek, and a slow pat, pat on the shingles and on Angus's leather jacket. Dipper pushed himself up off of Angus's lap. "We're gonna get rained on. Let's go inside and play Scrabble."

"Okay. Just remember, I've been alive a lot longer than you, so don't be surprised if I know words you've never heard of."

"Exactly what Grunkle Stan says. Nice try."

********


	12. Rune Kenaz

********

Mabel blew into the Mystery Shack, took off her bike helmet, and shouted, "I got a job for after graduation!" She took Dipper by his fingertips and danced back and forth in front of him. "I'm training as a docent at the Quentin Trembley Museum!"

"That's awesome! Uh, where is the Quentin Trembley Museum? Is it in Gravity Falls?"

"Yeah. It's in one of those little buildings that shares a wall with the bike shop. They didn't have a help wanted sign or anything, but I went in and asked anyway, because I have previous experience with President Trembley."

"Do you get paid for this job?"

"Not for the docent thing—that's the tour and lecture part. I'm also getting a job in the gift shop, switching off with the other docent, and that pays. Dress code is silly business casual."

Dipper kissed her. At the last possible second he saved it by pulling back and just touching their lips together with a noisy smack.

Mabel was blushing from excitement, and seemed to take the kiss as congratulations. She hopped up and down on the balls of her feet, jouncing Dipper's arms. "Thank you!"

********

There was a party for Mabel's graduating class of three students at the Quaintsville Community Center. The log community center had been built onto the log cabin teacherage instead of adding on to the schoolhouse. All the younger kids in the school—all ten or twelve of them—came to help celebrate. Mabel and Dipper's parents drove up, and Grandpa Sherman flew out from New Jersey.

Mabel had wanted to provide a fog machine for the party. Dipper suggested dry ice in water for a "witch's brew" special effect during the dance, but Mabel wanted more fog than that. At party time, Grunkle Ford rode up with Soos in the pickup, and came into the hall wearing goggles, a helmet with a visor that reinforced the goggles, and thick, elbow-length gloves. He lugged a sealed barrel into a corner at the end of the refreshment table, and used a pry bar on the lid; the barrel was filled with many gallons of opaque, light-green liquid. Soos brought in a wooden crate. Ford opened it and hefted out a dead-white block of something and lowered it into the green liquid. The white stuff seethed as it sank.

Ford lifted his visor back over his helmet, raised his goggles to his brow, and said, "If they ask, tell your parents that was dry ice."

Dipper asked him, aside, "What was it, really?"

"Something I found on the alien ship. I believe they designed it as a fertilizer, to be distributed through the air. I used that green oily substance to speed up the vaporizing process. Otherwise, the white block would stay solid and take days to convert to vapor. I needed it to convert immediately, for the party."

Dipper sniffed, and wrinkled his nose. "Do I smell birthday cake?"

"It's an odor associated with birthday cake," said Ford. "Wax candles being put out—that moment when smoke mixes with hot wax. That's what this fertilizer smells like."

Whitish-green fog piled up over the green liquid until heavy billows flopped over the edge of the barrel and rolled across the floor at shin height and rising. It was so thick that it seemed like an enormous cat, rubbing affectionately against legs, so thick it could be petted. The hot-wax-and-smoke odor intensified.

"We'd better take some precautions with the smaller children," said Ford, "so they don't get stepped on in the mist. Pass them these sparklers and matches."

Mr. Hernandez said, "We should probably have a buddy system."

"Yay!" said Mabel. "Fog!"

********

Grenda and Candy graduated from Gravity Falls High School a few days later. Dipper and Mabel rode along on over an hour's drive to the airport when Grenda's parents put her on a private jet bound for Austria, and again when Candy's parents put her on a run-of-the-mill jet, for New York State, and school.

Mabel gave each girl a wrapped present and cried both times.

Dipper bent to wrap his arms tightly around Candy. "Take care of yourself, come back soon. We nerds gotta stick together."

Candy patted his shoulder. "We will be stuck together when I return."

********

Dipper bought himself an eighteenth birthday present.

Stan drove into town near Dipper's appointment time with Gil, the artist at Kleen Tattooz, and dropped him off in front of the shop. "Methinks their business sign doth protest too much, kiddo."

"No, it's fine. The 'kleen' part isn't ironic, or desperate or anything. Gil's really nice, I've already talked with him."

"Eh, I guess it'll be okay. A little skin infection'll make a man out of you."

********

Dipper went to the arcade with the purpose of finding someone to play him at pool, but when he got there, Argyle was at the table, playing solitaire. Dipper stood sideways, one foot toward the pool table, and one foot pointed back toward the door.

"Hi, Dipper!" Mabel called out. She was playing a video game with two boys Dipper didn't recognize. She grinned and gave him a wide wave, high above her head, and he smiled and waved back.

Mabel calling Dipper's name drew Argyle's attention to him. "Hey, Pines. Play me."

Dipper strolled to the pool table with an air of bestowing a great favor, and selected a cue.

Argyle cast frequent glances at Mabel and the two tourist boys. When Dipper took a shot, Argyle barely watched the table out of the corner of his eye.

Dipper said, "How can you stand here and watch her flirt with other guys? Doesn't it bug you?"

"It bugs me. Mostly the way that tall, skinny chucklehead wants to play with her hair. I'm watching to see if he gets fresh."

"What happens if he gets fresh?"

"I take him outside. Unless it's mutual—I mean, if Mabel likes the guy, then we're all cool."

"You could scare them off."

"I don't think she wants me to."

Mabel's laughter carried across the arcade. Dipper looked over at her. She gave the tall, skinny stranger an "oh, you" slap on his shoulder, as if he'd just said something witty.

Argyle rounded a corner of the table to consider his options. Dipper asked irritably, "Are you aware that you sniff really loudly every time you push your glasses up?"

"Um, no. I wasn't aware of it."

"Do your vampire sinuses have some connection to your vampire vision?"

"I suppose it's just habit."

"Well, try not to push your glasses up when I'm thinking about a shot."

"I'll try. Right now it's my shot. And ... it was a good one." Argyle straightened up with a little nod to the table as if it had just granted him a compliment.

"You have several decades' practice compared to me," said Dipper.

"True."

"And special dexterity due to your vampirism."

"Not really."

"Oh." Dipper's shot wasn't terrible. He looked back at Mabel. The shorter boy had her arm linked in his, and the tall one leaned to say something into her ear. He lingered, and Dipper said, "How long can it take to say something in a girl's ear? You could get rid of that guy right now. I'll take shorty."

"Do you think she needs help?"

"That's beside the point."

"I don't want Mabel to think I'm jealous."

"Aren't you?"

"No."

Dipper snorted.

"All right, fine, I am. But those punky tourist crumbs don't get to me as much as you do."

"What are you talking about?

"I mean I have to admit to Mabel that I'm more jealous of her twin brother than I am of summer boys."

"Wait, you—you talk about me to Mabel?"

"I talk about everyone with Mabel."

Dipper ground his teeth and ruined his next shot. "You could just keep your jealousy to yourself."

"Mabel likes it when I talk about my feelings."

"Just because Mabel likes something doesn't mean you have to do it."

"You should try it."

"I suppose you think you're better at talking about your feelings than I am."

"I might be." Argyle put the cue behind his hips and hung his shoulders back so far it looked as if he should go off-balance.

"So it was absolutely necessary for the success of that shot that you do it behind your back."

"Nope." Argyle pushed his glasses up and sniffed—again. "Be fair. Try to look at it from my point of view. I'm not like other guys. I can't go on dates during the day, I can't age. My advantages are that I'm here year around and that Mabel can get me to talk about my feelings. I'm going to work those advantages. Wouldn't you do that, if you wanted to date your sister?"

"What? I'm sure I don't know what I would do if I loved—if Mabel liked—if I wanted to date my sister? Why would you say something like that?"

Argyle made a dismissive gesture. "It was awkward phrasing. That's obviously not what I meant. Back up. Mabel doesn't care what those guys think of her. She cares what you think. You and Stan. She thinks her Grunkle Stan hung the moon. But he's not the one who's going to tell her he doesn't want her dating an old vampire."

"I wouldn't do that. I would never tell her who to date. Criticizing her stupid boyfriends hurts her feelings."

Argyle's gaze through his glasses intensified. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

"I didn't say ... exactly that. Anyway, you're obviously smarter than I am at a lot of things." Dipper kicked a leg of the pool table.

Argyle straightened up. Dipper lowered his cue and took a shot, coolly didn't react to how good it was, and stepped back from the table.

Argyle asked, "What's that on the back of your hand?"

"It's a heart."

"May I?" Argyle tilted Dipper's hand. "It looks like a tattoo with marker added to it. I sense Mabel's artistic hand in this."

"It was a rune kenaz, but ... I think it's going to be a heart forever after. Whenever the pink marker shows signs of fading, she pounces me."

"Why a rune whatever?"

"Kenaz. It stands for pine, or specifically, in olden days, a torch made out of pine wood. The resin burns like a lamp. They used it way back when for light. It stands for the light of knowledge shining in the dark. And, according to Mabel, it's a 'less than' sign which has to have a three beside it. There's no reasoning with her."

Mabel left the tourist boys by the video game. She bounced across the floor to Argyle and kissed him on the cheek, and he grinned at her. She came close to Dipper to tell him where she'd be, and with whom. "Those boys are staying at the campground. I'll be back at the Shack before ten. If I'm not, come out with Grunkle Stan's car to get me. I might get kissed," she grinned conspiratorially. "Wish me luck, bro-times."

"Good luck, sis."

The tourist boys had followed her, and Mabel started to walk away with them, but she looked over her shoulder and blew Dipper a kiss.

He caught it. "I'll use this later."

Mabel laughed. "Find a safe place to keep it in the meantime."

Dipper mimed putting it in his jacket pocket. Mabel turned away, her hair swung across her shoulders, and she sashayed out of the arcade with a boy on each arm. "Campground," Dipper said uncomfortably.

"Don't worry. Angus is at the campground tonight. If anyone tries anything Mabel doesn't like, they'll hear from him. Mabel knows he's there, and that she can just holler if she needs anything. Nobody's getting hurt, or even scared, on any campfire dates."

"That's ... actually a load off my mind, despite, you know, you and your brother being nightstalking predators. Thank you."

"Our pleasure."

********

Dipper was reading with the TV on, and watching the time. He set a timer on his watch for five minutes to ten, and when it went off, he started listening for Mabel's return.

When ten o'clock came and she wasn't there, he jumped up, having acquired Stan's car keys hours earlier, but Mabel met him at the door. "I'm back!"

"I was just about to head out."

"Perfect timing." Mabel high-fived him. "Thank you for waiting up for me, and being ready to come and get me."

"No problem." They returned to the living room, Dipper picked up his book, and Mabel sat on the floor. Dipper cleared his throat and asked, "So, was your luck any good?"

"Oh, I don't know ... now that I've been kissed, I can't talk about it. That would be telling." Mabel affected a surprised look. "Oops, I hope I didn't give anything away."

Dipper laughed.

"Stephen is a good kisser."

"Which one is Stephen?"

"The skinny one."

"They both looked kinda scrawny to me."

"Hey." Mabel frowned and lightly kicked Dipper's shin. Then she lit up. "Have you used your kiss yet?"

"My kiss?"

"I blew you a kiss at the arcade."

"I think it's still in one of my pockets." Dipper fished for the air-kiss in the lining of his jacket.

"Wrong pocket," said Mabel. "You put it in the outside zippered one."

"Oh, yeah, here it is." Dipper pinched his forefinger and thumb together and withdrew the kiss. He slapped it onto his nose, a little too hard, and scrunched his nose up. "Ow."

Mabel giggled, Dipper snickered, Mabel flopped onto her back and laughed.

"You going to see those guys again?"

"Yeah." Mabel turned onto her belly and kicked up her heels. "They're fun enough. I'll be going over there all this week, probably. Staying later."

"So, like, out until midnight every night this week?"

"I don't know, something like that. I'll check in with you and the Grunkles, from the pay phone at the campground office. Or I might borrow a cell."

Here was Dipper's chance to try to be as good as Argyle was at something. He scraped together some courage. "Sometimes I ..." he twiddled his thumbs in his lap.

Mabel looked back at him over her shoulder and waited a minute for him to continue, then gave his knee a little shove with her foot. "Sometimes you what?"

Dipper tightened his lips and drew a determined breath through his nose. "I'm jealous of those jerks. I mean boys. I'm jealous of all your boyfriends. Wow, that was really hard to say. I feel amazingly relaxed right now. I guess I'll probably be embarrassed later."

"Thank you for telling me," said Mabel. "I could kinda tell you felt that way. I don't want you to have bad feelings, but I like that you're always looking out for me, and protecting me." She faced the TV again, propping her chin in her hands. "Anyway, those guys will be leaving Gravity Falls soon."

"But then you'll find more boys."

Mabel gave a short hum that meant, _maybe_. "Wait until the end of summer. Then it'll be just you and me."

"I don't suppose you need me to wait up for you, as long as Argyle knows where you are."

"I love having somebody waiting for me at home. If you don't mind. You don't seem to mind."

"I don't mind."

"Want to watch the late movie?"

Dipper grinned. "Yeah."

Mabel jumped up. "Stovetop popcorn!"

Dipper followed her to the kitchen. Mabel pulled things out of cupboards. Dipper found the butter on the table, on a saucer, covered with an overturned coffee mug.

"Let's put maple syrup on it," said Mabel.

"Whatever you want."

"Cheese flavoring and maple syrup?"

"Don't test me. I'll say yes to anything."

Mabel grinned. "Butter and maple syrup."

"Sounds actually good."

"Yeah, I thought so," said Mabel, "but I would eat the maple and cheese flavoring version, too."

"So would I—but it might not go down easy."

They sat together on the old armchair and watched the movie. Mabel noisily licked butter and maple syrup from her fingers.

"Hey goober," said Dipper. "It's called a napkin. Want me to teach you how to use one?"

"You're hilarious."

"I can't tell whether you're being sarcastic. You sound as if you really mean I'm actually hilarious. Do you ever use sarcasm?"

"I dunno. What's sarcasm?"

"See, even now with your tone of voice I can't tell—"

"Hey! The Later Movie is a good one, too! Want to watch it?"

"Yeah, sure."

Dipper tried rubbing maple syrup and butter off of his fingers with his napkin. Where the syrup and butter were mixed he had some success, but where the maple syrup had no oily butter mixed with it, his fingers ended up sticky and covered in paper napkin lint.

"Aw, just lick 'em. You know you want to." Mabel stuck out her tongue. "It's called a tongue. Do I need to teach you how to use it?"

Dipper looked at Mabel's tongue, at his own messy fingers, took a breath, and went to the kitchen sink to rinse off.

During the Later Movie, Mabel crunched popcorn and continued to lick butter and maple syrup off of her fingers, and fell asleep leaning on Dipper's shoulder. She was wearing her boy-catching perfume, and her hair smelled of fruity shampoo, overlaid with woodsmoke from somebody's campfire. Dipper sat still as a stone until after two in the morning. Then Mabel woke up on her own and took herself off to bed. Dipper tried to follow, and discovered that half his body had fallen asleep. He finally dragged himself upstairs, extremities tingling in protest, and dropped into bed.

He snuggled his head into the pillow, and accidentally thought about licking maple syrup and butter off of Mabel's fingers for her. Dipper sighed, squeezed his eyes tighter shut, drifted, and in a moment accidentally thought of Mabel licking maple syrup and butter off of _his_ fingers.

Then he thought both of those thoughts again, on purpose.

********


	13. Piggy Nuthatches

********

It had been raining since suppertime. Dipper called up to Cherry Farm after dark. Angus answered the phone. "Hey," Dipper said. "I was just wondering if you were home. Which you are, obviously, because you answered the phone. I mean I was wondering what you guys are up to. Or you specifically. I'm really calling for you. To find out if you'd be home or down in town tonight or had anything going on."

"Dad is down in town someplace. He likes to get rained on. Me and Argyle are at home."

"Would you want to do something with me?"

"Come up here, if you can get Stan's car. We're pitting cherries, you can help."

Dipper arrived and shook the rain off of his jacket and out of his hair. The front door opened into the bare living room with its pine board floor. Argyle sat in a straightback chair, and Angus sat on a crate. They had bushel baskets of whole cherries beside them, and pitted steadily into jars and plastic tubs. Angus smiled a greeting at Dipper, and Argyle said, "The kitchen drawer with the pitters in it is open. Just grab one and get started."

The drawer was filled with manual, single-cherry pitters of widely varying ages and colors. Each pitter had a half-spherical cup on one end, into which a cherry was placed. When the handle was squeezed, a stem above the cup pressed down through the cherry and trapped the pit in a hole in the cup. When the handle was released, the metal stem came up again, with the pitted cherry stuck around it. The cherry could then be pushed off the stem, the pit flicked out of the hole, and another cherry placed in the cup.

It took Dipper some time to get into a rhythm. Rain poured on the steep half-roof and spilled off the low eave, sheeting and thumping onto the ground. Dipper's human wrist didn't have the endurance with a hand cherry pitter that vampire wrists had. He stopped after an hour and stepped into the parlor, which was differentiated from the living room by a rectangular archway and an aged, mustardy-gold rug. Dipper sat on the couch and listened to Angus’s records.

The boys pitted as many cherries as they wanted to do that night and put them away, and Argyle washed the pitters. Angus sat down on the couch and put his chin on Dipper's shoulder.

Dipper heard the blender going in the kitchen and in a minute Argyle brought each of them cherry shakes in glass pint mugs with handles. He sat cross-legged on the floor. The rain was so loud it seemed to be playing drums for the Glenn Barber record. Dipper's upper arm and his leg were warmly snug against Angus's side.

Angus sipped the last of his shake and licked his lips. Dipper finished his, and Angus took his mug away. He leaned over to set the mugs on the floor, and Dipper placed his palm on the back of Angus's neck. Angus caught Dipper's hand, drew it down and held it in his lap. He sat up, leaned in and gave Dipper a kiss. Dipper parted his lips easily. Both of their mouths were cold, and tasted of cherry milkshake. Dipper grabbed Angus by the shoulder and hooked his knee over Angus's lap. Their lips soon warmed up.

"Guys," said Argyle.

"You don't need to sit in here," said Angus, his voice sending soft vibrations into Dipper's mouth.

Argyle got up off the floor. "I'm taking Cherry Truck to go see Mabel at the Mystery Shack."

"See you later," said Angus.

"'Bye, thanks for the milkshake," said Dipper. Angus touched his jaw to turn him back to their kiss.

The night was clearing and clouds were parting when Dipper walked on the gravel to his car. He could still feel Angus's kisses, and taste cherries.

********

Mabel wore jeans and one of Dipper's Greasy's Diner logo T-shirts. She was spinning to check the effect in the full-length mirror. "You're a lot taller than me," she said. "It used to be, when I wore one of your T-shirts, it was the same as wearing one of mine—except for the barbeque sauce spots and occasional bloodstains. But now look. Your T-shirt comes down past my hips." She tugged on the hem to show how far down it came. "Now I can wear your T-shirts as nightshirts! So when your T-shirts disappear, you'll know where they are."

Dipper turned a page of his book. He did not read it. He turned another page. And another. Halfway through not reading that page, he was able to speak. "Good to know."

********

Dipper's second tattoo, on his upper right arm, was made to look like the pine tree silhouette on his baseball cap. Mabel persisted in turning the rune kenaz on the back of his hand into a heart.

Mabel and Dipper turned nineteen. That fall, he began drawing a design for his third pine-tree-themed tattoo. He did so many practice pine trees that Mabel stopped asking to see what he was drawing, unless he specifically let her know he was rendering something other than a tree. "Let me know when you're drawing a bird or something. I don't know how to tell the difference between the trees anymore."

Having succeeded in making his sister disinterested, Dipper began work on the design he wanted to incorporate into the pine tree. He took sample sketches to Kleen Tattooz. Gil gave him advice on adding interest and anchoring the design. He took the best one of Dipper's next set of drawings and improved upon it while Dipper watched. "It's mostly line weight," said Gil. "Your drawing has been getting better."

The tree would extend from between the points of Dipper's shoulder blades to the small of his back. He came home with his back bandaged after the first inking session. Mabel took the hem of his T-shirt between thumb and forefinger and gave a dainty pull, careful of his skin, but demanding, "I want to see, I want to see!"

"It's not done yet," said Dipper, and tugged his shirt down.

On the day the pine tree on his back was finished, Dipper stopped on the way home at the toys and gifts shop and browsed with combined desperation and determination. What was a sure bet to distract Mabel? Animals in clothes, he decided.

Dipper rolled down the top of the paper bag with the toy inside and held it in a death grip as he stepped through the door into the entry hall at the Mystery Shack.

Before he even had the door shut, Mabel had run halfway down the stairs and leaned over the railing to shout to him. "I can see it now, right? It's done, right?"

"Upstairs. And only for a minute."

"What's in the bag?"

"A surprise."

"A surprise?"

"For you."

"For me? I'm not sure yet but this might be the best day ever!"

"Could be," said Dipper. "My back is a little sore for it to be the best day ever."

"I'll take that into consideration when I make the decision."

Dipper stood in the middle of the attic and let Mabel carefully pick his bandage off. "Is this what all the pine tree practice was for? Hey, it's Grunkle Ford's UFO, isn't it? And the bridge."

Dipper held up the bag. "Open your surprise."

"But I'm looking at—"

"Mabel, just look at what I brought you. I'll let you in on a secret. It was seriously the cutest thing of its kind in the whole toy store."

"What is it?"

Dipper gave the bag a shake. "It's a tiny plush monkey wearing a pig costume."

Mabel drew a loud intake of breath and snatched the bag, uncrumpled the top and gathered up the monkey. Dipper turned toward her, thus putting the pine tree on his back safely out of sight. He sighed and relaxed his shoulders. Mabel dropped the paper bag on the floor. "Look in the bag again," Dipper told her, and she pounced on it and peeked inside.

"Is that—"

"It's a lamb costume. It's purple, for some reason, but I'm pretty sure it's a lamb. The pig costume comes off, you can change your monkey into different outfits."

"Dipper!" Mabel cried, admonishing him for being too amazing at giving gifts. "I won't hug you now, in case I hurt the new tattoo by accident. I can do your bandage for you later, before you go to bed."

"Uh, no, thanks. Angus is coming by tonight and he'll do it, or maybe Grunkle Ford will." Angus or Ford would focus on putting the bandage on properly, and would not closely examine the tattoo. "I appreciate it, though."

"Okay," she said wistfully. "Well, thanks for the monkey!" She waved it at him.

Dipper smiled a little. "I'm glad you like it."

********

Angus stood on the Mystery Shack porch. "I saw your light. I'm not sure what time it is. Hope it isn't too late ..."

"It's only like one o'clock," said Dipper. "I'm reading a book, and watching the late movie. What do you need? Want to come in?"

"I can come in for a second. I thought I'd call you from home and leave a message, but since you're up, I'll ask you now if you can help. Argyle and I haven't seen Dad in a couple of nights. His regular people—you know, the people he drinks from—haven't seen anything of him, either. We're afraid he got the wrong end of a fight with a monster, or maybe he's petrified somewhere. The mountain path lights were off last night, and Dad still never came home, so it can't be those."

"But what could petrify him at night, besides our trail lights?"

"There are other lights that can turn a vampire to stone. Those labyrinth lights, maybe. At The Witch's Mystery Labyrinth. Could you look around and make sure he's not stuck there? We've been looking everywhere else."

"Of course I can do that."

"Okay. And check the old garden," said Angus.

"The garden in Mrs. Balaska's yard?"

"No, the older garden. There's a grape arbor. You can see it from a little distance. If you head northwest from the house you can't miss it. It's one of those places where a lot of those weird little lights can be scattered around, but there are also grape vines, and I'm thinking it might be where Dad is, because he could have gone looking for grapes. I can't go look, because if he got caught by some lights, I could, too."

"We'll have a look."

"Thanks. But—try to be careful. Dad will be very hungry."

"You think your dad is dangerous?"

Angus tilted his head. "Probably not yet. He's completely gentle when he's in his right mind. But it's been a couple of days and he's gotta be getting hungry. If you do find Dad, I'd feel better if you didn't wake him up until you can get Manly Dan to help. He's the only man I can think of that will be able to singlehandedly manage Dad if he's too hungry."

"Me and Mabel will go out to the labyrinth today," Dipper promised. He leaned in to give Angus a quick kiss.

Angus gripped Dipper's T-shirt neckline and kept the kiss going. They paused with their foreheads together. Angus said, "I appreciate it," and they kissed some more.

********

Mabel had to work at the Quentin Trembley Museum the next morning. Dipper picked her up afterward in Stan's car. She quickly changed into walking clothes and folded her silly business casual work outfit. He brought sandwiches, and they ate in the parked Caddy with the windows rolled down. The late-summer day was close, warm, and richly colored.

Dipper and Mabel were still capable of getting turned around in The Witch's Mystery Labyrinth. Searching for any sign of Caesar there took a while. Dipper boosted Mabel up to see over hedges and make sure they hadn't missed any areas.

"He's not here," sighed Mabel.

"Angus said to check the other garden," said Dipper. "There's an old grape arbor."

"I saw the arbor, one of the times you lifted me up." Mabel pointed.

"Yep, that's the direction it'll be in."

They took the car down to the end of Mrs. Balaska's driveway and continued on foot. The knee-high grass was starting to shrivel, but down inside it end-of-summer insects sang, hummed, buzzed and made clacking and chatting sounds like finger cymbals. Unlike in early summer, when a footfall near a ditch full of grass would put a brief end to the bugs' humming, now they didn't even pause in their singing when Mabel and Dipper walked past.

A scattered few stalks had come up on their own in a fallow corn patch. In a narrow stretch of grass between the corn and the grape arbor stood a headless scarecrow.

"Wait a minute, Mabel." Dipper stooped and picked a piece of alien grow light out of the grass close to the scarecrow. A pumpkin lay on the ground nearby. "Hey, maybe this was his head. It's in good condition, if it's been sitting here in the grass since last fall."

Mabel peered at the pumpkin. "It doesn't have a face. So I doubt it was his head." She fiddled with a tuft of golden straw sticking up from the scarecrow's shirt collar. "Other than being headless, he looks pretty well taken care of, for being way out here. His straw stuffing is very shiny." The scarecrow was dressed in tan cotton work trousers that were knotted at the knees, evidently to keep his straw from falling out, and yellow leather gloves were stuck into the cuffs of his old, button-down cotton work shirt.

The grape arbor cast a long late-afternoon shadow. All around the arbor, the grass and vines were long, but it seemed to Dipper that he could spy occasionally a faint, out-of-place green shine.

The inside of the arbor was painted with deep shadow. Black clusters hung on the thick covering of grapevines. Orange sunlight from either end couldn't quite reach the middle, but glowed on drying grape leaves on the edges of the latticework. In three or four spots on the leaf-strewn floor was a glow like that of giant fireflies, and in the midst of these alien grow lights stood a tall stone horse.

Mabel threw her arms around the stone horse's neck. "I found you!"

"He wasn't playing hide and seek," said Dipper.

It appeared that while plucking grapes, Caesar had disturbed the leaves and vines and turned up pieces of artificial daylight with his feet. In trying to get away from one, he disturbed another, and so got stoned between them. "The strange thing," said Dipper, "is that this floor is made of bricks. The grow lights out in the fields can be turned up by granular convection. How could these have cropped up here?"

"Birds brought them in," suggested Mabel.

"Hm. Maybe."

Mabel picked up one of the lights. "Hang on, Caesar, you'll be free when the sun goes down."

"Wait, Mabel. We should keep the lights on him. At least one of them." Dipper set one on Caesar's withers. "Until we can come back with Manly Dan."

Mabel hopped to reach the light Dipper had placed, and hid it in her palm. "Let's let him wake up."

"Angus said he could be dangerous."

"Don't worry, brotilda. Caesar won't hurt me."

"'Brotilda?'"

The gloom had grown greener, and the light coming in at the ends of the arbor purpled. Dipper glanced outside at the horizon, and found that nothing remained of the sunset but a white line. "Quick, Mabel, give me a light."

Mabel made a negative sound. When she argued with noises instead of words, it could take a long, hard time to turn her around. Dipper glanced at the hazy fields. He could scoop up a grow light and put it on Caesar. It would be quicker than arguing Mabel out of the lights she had collected. But it wouldn't be quick enough. Caesar's black coat made a spreading hole in the paleness of his stone surface. Dipper placed himself between Caesar and Mabel.

The stone melted like frost, until finally the horse shook, and tiny stone shards dusted Mabel's hair.

"Hi, Caesar!" said Mabel.

He turned toward her and licked his lips, his big horse tongue making a sloppy noise. In a guttural voice he said, "Mabel Pines." Then he bolted. Mabel called after him, but he thundered off and did not slow down nor turn around.

"He's kind of nervous," Mabel said, apologizing for him.

"Mabel, that was very dangerous. And it wasn't nice to him—he was probably afraid he'd take a bite out of you. I was afraid he was going to."

"Caesar wouldn't hurt me," Mabel said stubbornly.

"Where's he running to?" Dipper worried.

"Home," said Mabel. "Cherry Farm is that way."

"We'd better call up there and make sure Angus or Argyle is home to help him, or Caesar will get there and find out there's no one to stop him from rampaging. Let's go see if Mrs. Balaska is awake and will let us use her phone."

Mabel and Dipper hurried back to the witch's house. They hopped up onto the porch and Mabel knocked. A lady's voice called, "It's open."

Dipper poked his head inside the front room. "Hi, Mrs. Balaska? you don't know us, but we're Mabel and Dipper—"

"Oh, Stan Pines's niece and nephew."

"That's us. Can we please use your phone to call Cherry Farm? We found Caesar in your grape arbor."

"He was petrified, wasn't he? Thank you for going down there. The phone is on the occasional table by the mirror."

Dipper went hesitantly farther into the room, and Mabel followed closely behind him. He heard her slow intake of breath, and glanced back in time to watch her eyes widen. He warned her, "Don't touch anything."

Still her eyes widened, reflecting the glitter of the decor. Dipper whispered, "I'm serious, Mabel. If this lady really is a witch, I bet half this stuff is enchanted."

Mabel found words. "This whole place is enchanted!" The look on her face as she gazed at the knickknacks and mobiles and herbs hanging from every inch of ceiling was the look of a cat gazing upon a dangling string. Her hand, like a curious cat's paw, slowly lifted, and Dipper closed his own hand over it and drew it back down. He kept a tight hold on Mabel's hand and did not let her drift.

There were mirrors everywhere Dipper looked. A wardrobe across the room had mirrored doors and a small mirror on a stand on its top. Between two doors, one wall had a built-in full-length mirror that reflected shiny decorations on a dining table in the middle of the room. A cut-glass chandelier added to the confusion, as every reflective thing glittered back at it.

Mrs. Balaska seemed to recall how many mirrors she owned, because she called from what Dipper guessed was the kitchen: "Old-fashioned curlicued gold-framed mirror." A little, old lady shuffled into the front room, carrying a small mixing bowl in the crook of one arm. She wore a kitchen apron over a long, trailing dress, and a wrinkly, filmy black shawl. She shuffled, it seemed, because she was trying not to step on the hem of her dress; she kicked it out of the way with the toe of a pointy shoe.

"The phone's right over there." Mrs. Balaska gestured with a table knife coated in colored icing. Dipper looked, and could see no phone. He took a step in the direction she had indicated. "You're getting warmer. By the elephant reed arrangement and the pheasant feathers. It should be behind the beaded breastplate—I don't know what that's even doing there. Move the hatbox full of those brown roses."

"Ah. Thank you." Dipper uncovered a rotary phone and lifted the receiver. With his other hand he kept a good hold on Mabel.

"I know not to touch stuff, Dipper," she whispered. He shook his head at her, and held her hand while he tucked the receiver between cheek and shoulder, and dialed with his free hand.

"I'm gonna go see what she's making in the kitchen."

Dipper nodded and let Mabel's hand go. "Don't wander."

Mabel poked him in the side. "I won't."

Dipper got Angus on the phone and told him Caesar was on his way home. "Thanks so much," said Angus. "I'll watch for him. This is a huge relief, thank you."

Dipper went to tell Mabel that Angus had the Caesar situation under control, and found that in the half a minute he'd spent on the phone, Mabel had gotten herself ensconced in a chair at the kitchen table with a mug of tea, and a plate piled with sugar cookies at her elbow. Mabel laughed at something Mrs. Balaska had said, took a bite of cookie, and asked, "What's your scarecrow's name?"

"He's not a scarecrow. He's a scare-nuthatch!"

"He's headless. It's spooky."

"She means that as a compliment," Dipper explained to Mrs. Balaska. He sat down next to Mabel and slowly pinched a cookie from the plate. "Is this safe?"

"Don't worry, Dipper. There's no evil magic on it, is there, Mrs. Balaska?"

"These cookies won't hurt you. Sugar is good for you." Mrs. Balaska leaned across the table and pushed the plate closer to Dipper.

The cookie had lemon-flavored icing. Dipper munched and asked with his mouth full, "Who would want to scare nuthatches?"

"I would. Piggy nuthatches. That's what we call them around here. I mean pygmy nuthatches. They love my bowls of blood and wine, the little lushes. There might be a hundred of them at a time, way up in the top of my biggest pine tree. A lot of them end up turning to stone all at one time, and they get too heavy for their branches and fall right onto tourists' heads.

"Before I was a vampire myself, I used to get my vampire blood from vampire tourists. There was a regular hail of piggy nuthatches, when all I wanted was a little variety in my bird displays. Seems like the other birds around here are more temperate in their drinking. So, I made the scare-nuthatch. I gave him real work clothes, and used a pumpkin for his head."

"That must have been his head on the ground next to him, after all," said Mabel. "His clothes and straw look new."

"His head and all's enchanted," said Mrs. Balaska. "He'll keep a long time. It's funny, when I became a vampire witch, or a witch vampire—I was a witch first, of course—I thought I would still be using enchantments all the time, maybe even more than before. But I found I had the ability to turn into an owl, and my problem with piggy nuthatches solved itself. When the sun comes up, I make sure I'm in the yard, and very easy to see. If you want to see what I look like, you can play a little game and find me in a different place in the garden each day."

Mabel remembered, "I saw you in the garden! You're so sweet."

Mrs. Balaska smiled at Mabel. "I work as well as any charm. Piggy nuthatches despise owls of all sizes, but they especially can't abide tiny owls."

"So the scare-nuthatch sits down by the grape arbor now, and, what?" said Dipper. "What did you enchant him to do?"

"Nothing much. I made him so he could react to fear. If he sensed fear coming from a nuthatch, or any other animal, he would give a little chase in that direction. That is, in the direction the fear was coming from. Birds couldn't get used to it. It's like me when I'm an owl, when I perch in a different place every day."

Mabel asked, "Could he walk around?"

"No, not exactly. I built him on a tomato cage, which was not enchanted. He had no way to get far or do much. Now, be sure each of you has had at least one of each color of cookie. The cookies are all the same, vanilla, but the icings are different flavors. I'll wrap up a dozen for Soos and another dozen for his grandmother. You could take them along with you and hand them over. Take some to eat at the Mystery Shack, too. How many great-uncles do you have now?"

"Two." Mabel raked in cookies as if she were winning a poker round. "And I have a pet pig."

Mabel and Dipper came home with piled-high platefuls of cookies to distribute, including a small parcel all for Waddles. Caesar, in human form, was sitting on the porch steps under the non-daylight of the regular porch lamp. He stood. "I'm sorry I had to run off like that," he said to Mabel. "I didn't want to eat you."

"That's all right!" said Mabel. "This is my brother, Dipper."

"Dipper," Caesar nodded.

Dipper remembered that he was dating Caesar's son, and stood tall and tried to appear gentlemanly. "Caesar." They shook hands. "We're sorry for letting you go without help."

"No harm done," said Caesar.

********


	14. The Grey Man

********

Angus took Dipper out for burgers. They had a checkerboard set up on the diner booth table.

"I appreciate the cheeseburgers," said Dipper, "and the pancakes, and I enjoy playing checkers with you, but you kinda suck at checkers."

"I know. I just like to count the pieces."

"Do you want to play something you can win once in awhile?"

"Dots and boxes," said Angus. "Give me some paper, I'll make a grid."

Lazy Susan gave a quiet knock on the end of the table to get their attention. "Hello, boys. Dipper, I put out some cherry custard pie."

Dipper perked up. Angus asked, "Want me to buy you a slice?"

"It's my favorite, so yes, definitely, but look at all the stuff you already bought."

Angus said, "We'll take one, thanks, Susan."

"Sure thing, honey." Susan headed for the kitchen.

Dipper said, "Um, you know, I get half off because I work here, you want to take advantage of that?"

"Are we still on a romantic date if we do it that way?"

"Sure, man. Can I ask you something?"

Angus raised one eyebrow inquiringly.

"I've always kinda wanted one of those tattoos of the heart with the arrow through it, and someone's name on it. Would it be okay with you if I got one like that, with your name in it?"

"You want a tattoo with my name on it?"

Dipper opened a spiral-bound notebook and pushed it across the table for Angus to look at. Dipper had drawn the arrowhead and fletching to suggest stylized pines, to match his other tattoos. He said, "The lettering won't look like this, this is my own sketch, and I can't do good lettering. Gil is going to do that for me, in a '50s font, because, well," and he gestured generally at Angus.

Angus looked at the sketch for a minute. "You want to do this?"

Dipper's cheek twitched. Of course he wanted to, but he didn't want to say it aloud again, nor even smile, until he knew Angus also wanted it.

"Cool. Very cool."

Then Dipper smiled openly. "Okay."

Angus pushed aside the checkers, the dots and boxes grid, and the plates of food, and leaned across the table.

Dipper let out a nervous laugh. "Are we kissing over the table in public? Is that what we're doing now?"

"I hope so, and quick, before I fall in your milkshake."

Dipper grabbed Angus's chin and gave him a firm kiss, then pushed on his chest, laughing. "Okay, man, enough. I'm embarrassed."

Angus sat, ducked his head and grinned. Dipper raised his milkshake to him. "I like your fangs. I mean I like it when you show your fangs."

Angus blushed. "I don't know what to say to that. I can't really help showing them, unless I never smile."

"I like your smile, then."

"Well. Thanks." Angus placed the page full of dots back in front of himself and drew a line, and pushed the paper across the table to Dipper.

********

Dipper got the tattoo with Angus's name on it. He rolled up his Greasy's T-shirt sleeves when he was at work, to show both of his upper arm tattoos.

One night, Lazy Susan was going to have Ford and Stan over to her house. She left Greasy's early to make a few pies at home and change into something nicer. Dipper stayed after closing to finish cleaning up. Lazy Susan told him to cook anything he wanted for his supper. He made himself some scrambled eggs and ham, and had a slice of pie, naturally.

The jingle bell on the door tinkled. Dipper called, "Sorry, we're clos—oh, hey, Angus. I'm just about to wash dishes."

"I'll help." Angus swept and mopped in the seating area and joined Dipper in the kitchen before the last plates and coffee mugs were through the dishwasher. They did pots and pans in two sinks and a bucket: soapy water, rinse water, and sanitizer dip.

Dipper locked up. It was about eleven o'clock, and the night was warm and black.

"Where would you like to go?" asked Angus. "Want to go out to my place and dance to records?"

"Would you mind if we just went back to the Mystery Shack? I really want to get off my feet."

"I don't mind at all."

Nobody was home at the Mystery Shack. Mabel, Argyle, and Waddles were all at a peanut brittle tasting fundraiser at the Quentin Trembley Museum.

Dipper got into bed and groaned when the relief of leaving the floor rushed into his feet. He lay on his back while Angus put out the lantern and climbed in with him. "Take off your shirt and turn over."

"Yes, sir," said Dipper.

Dipper winced as Angus rubbed the cramps out of his calves. He sighed and snuggled into the bedding while Angus kneaded his lower back and the sides of his rib cage. Angus paused with his hands lifted, then touched with one finger a part of the pine tree tattoo on Dipper's back. His finger traced back and forth over Dipper's spine.

Angus said, "Oh, hey."

Dipper stiffened, collected himself and sighed into his pillow. "I forgot you can see in the dark."

"I'm not supposed to see this?"

"Um. I just never thought you would."

Angus was quiet. He gently rubbed Dipper's shoulders.

"So, uh, now that you've seen it ... I have to ask if you're okay with dating a guy who's in love with his sister. I mean, now that you know about it. Is it too weird?"

"Let's be honest, you're kind of a weird guy in general."

"But do you think it's too weird? Don't joke around."

Angus gave massaging pinches to the back of Dipper's neck. "What does Mabel think about it?"

"She doesn't know."

"She doesn't know? You have her name tattooed on your back and she doesn't know?"

"I'd know if she noticed it. She'd never keep quiet about that. So I'm sure she has no idea. And help me keep it that way. Please?"

"Okay ... but why don't you tell her?"

"You haven't told me what you feel about this."

"I'm thinking. Give me time to think."

Dipper gave him a little time. "I can't see your face. I can't see how weirded out you are."

"I'm thinking. This is my thinking face. I'm not too weirded out, I'm trying to figure this out."

"Okay."

"Okay, I decided," said Angus. "You don't have any obligation to me, not to be in love with your sister. How you feel about her isn't really my business. You never have to talk with me about it, unless you want to."

"It's not gonna be in the back of your mind all the time, how I have Mabel's name tattooed on my back?"

Angus said firmly, "No." He rubbed Dipper's upper back with both hands, ran his fingers up through his hair, and Dipper relaxed somewhat. 

Angus said, "But—"

Dipper tensed again. He didn't dare push him to go on. Angus let the pause extend for some time, absently rubbing between Dipper's rigid shoulders; then he said, "You only go on dates with one person."

"Yeah. You. Why?"

"One thing bothers me. You're not like Mabel—how she dates a lot of boys. You don't seem to be the kind of person who does that, with either boys or girls. When she finds out about her name in your tattoo, how _she_ feels about it, how she feels about you, is going to matter to me, a lot. You'll probably regret that tattoo you got with my name on it."

"No, no I won't. Why do you think I would regret it?"

"If it comes down to you picking one person to date, and Mabel sees her name on your back, and finds out how you feel about her ..."

"She's not going to find out. Don't worry."

Angus moved up the bed, sat beside the pillow and ran his fingers through Dipper's hair. "Mabel told me how great the heart tattoo with my name on it was. She seemed to want to hear it from me, how excited I was that you got it." He touched the heart with the pine tree arrow through it, on Dipper's upper left arm.

"Yeah," Dipper said, and gave Angus's hand a squeeze. "She kind of followed me around and complimented it, said you must be happy about it."

"Imagine how tickled she'd be if you showed her the one with her name in it."

"Well, technically, she's seen it."

"You mean the tree. Everybody's seen the tree, in passing at least. Mabel hasn't seen her name in the branches."

"That's because I distracted her with a monkey."

"Are you afraid of what she'd think?" Angus paused and corrected himself with a huff. "I guess that's none of my business."

"I'm not afraid, I'm just not going to tell her."

"She'll find out."

"I'm not going to tell her."

"Why not?"

"It's too important to tell."

"How can something be too important to tell?"

"I don't know." Dipper sat up. "Let's go listen to some of Grunkle Ford's records."

Angus kissed him. "Okay."

********

Dipper sat at a little table in the gift shop, scribbling and sketching. Ford had asked him to catalogue some of the weird things from his original collection, that Stan had long ago slapped price tags on.

Stan was behind the counter. A gentleman customer entered the shop and looked at everything: old agricultural tools hanging from the walls, racks of novelty shirts on hangers, genuine preserved chipmunk brains in jars, and fake preserved chipmunk brains in jars. The customer wore grey shoes, a grey sport coat, and a white turtleneck. He approached the counter and inquired of Stan, "Have you seen a woven bridle, antique but in fine shape; perhaps someone tried to sell it to you?"

"Haven't seen anything like that," said Stan.

"I can't change back into a horse until I have my bridle," said the man.

"Everybody's got problems," said Stan. "Can I interest you in a souvenir shoelace? Second shoelace half price."

The customer bought two souvenir yellow shoelaces with tiny red question marks printed on them. "Please leave a message at The Witch's Mystery Labyrinth if you see anything of my bridle."

"Sure. Hope you find your thing."

"Good day." The bell on the top of the door jingled as the customer departed.

"Eugh," said Stan. "This money is damp."

Dipper registered Stan's comment and absently pieced it together with things the customer had said. He snatched up his journal, some looseleaf and two pens and ran after the stranger. "Sir! Mister! Sir, I'm sorry to bother you—"

The man in grey turned around.

"Sir, I—if I may ask some questions." Dipper held up the journal.

"What about?"

"I'm kind of an investigator ..."

"Are you a reporter?"

"Uh, no.”

“That's fine. It’s just as well.”

“Okay, good, I have these journals, see, we try to fill them with all the information we can gather about Gravity Falls ...”

“Who's 'we'?”

“Me and my Grunkle—great-uncle, Ford Pines.”

The stranger seated himself at a picnic table.

“Sweet, thank you. Thanks so much. I heard you telling my Grunkle—I mean, my great-uncle Stanley—that you can't change back into a horse without your bridle.”

“That's true. I'm afraid I am quite stuck. Do you happen to have seen it?”

“Sorry, I haven't seen it, but I can try to find it. Let me ask you a few basic questions for this journal first, and then I'll switch to my detective notebook—”

“You are a detective?”

“Um. Informal, but I try to be professional quality.”

“I hope you can help me. What do you need to know?”

“Okay, first off, which ... er ... like, what do you turn into? Are you human? Is the bridle magical?”

“You must learn to organize your questions, young man. And introduce yourself, please.”

“Of course. I'm Dipper Pines. What is your name, sir?”

“You may address me as Mr. Grey.”

“Appropriate,” Dipper mumbled to himself, taking notes. “And what species would you class yourself as?”

“I am a nuggle.”

“What is a nuggle? What do you look like?”

“A nuggle is a magical horse who lives in the water. You can see what I look like right now, when I’m unable to transform. I am trying to turn back into the horse, which I'm fairly certain you have visited in the labyrinth.”

Dipper squinted in thought. “You turn into a stone horse?”

“Not at first. I drink the wine tainted with vampire blood and then set myself in the garden, for fun.”

“It's ... fun to hang around in stone form?”

“Yes, I think it is. I can hear everything that goes on around me, without being seen—that is, without being seen as anything but a stone statue. I enjoy attending the late-night parties in the labyrinth.”

“You can hear everything that goes on around you?”

“Yes.”

The horse and plow was a favorite spot in the labyrinth for Candy, Grenda, Mabel, and Dipper. They had picnicked under its nose. Mabel had decorated its head, neck, and tail with flower chains. One time Grenda had brought chalk, and she and Dipper had drawn a target on the horse's side, and shot at it with rubber suction cup arrows. “Oh gosh, I sat on your back. Multiple times. Was that weird?”

“If I found it weird for children to sit on my back, I would not spend free time in the labyrinth.”

“It's my understanding that vampires can't hear while they're in stone form,” said Dipper.

“I can hear,” said Mr. Grey. “I am not a vampire.”

“But, also, okay, there's this effect the animals who turn into stone get, from drinking vampire blood. It makes them temporarily bloodthirsty. Does that happen to you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you, uh, act on it?”

“I drink blood only rarely. I know that the craving passes, so typically I wait. I know I will soon go back to craving barley and snails like a normal person.”

Dipper jotted, “Likes barley and snails,” for his nuggle journal entry. “Was the bridle on your head when you lost it?”

“I was wearing it, yes. In the labyrinth. I turned back from stone, and was forced to turn directly to human. Except for my ears.” Mr. Grey tilted his head and turned one furry, grey horse ear toward Dipper.

"Awesome." Dipper touched the end of his pencil to the tip of Mr. Grey's ear, and Mr. Grey flicked the ear. “Did you hear anything suspicious?”

Mr. Grey considered for some time. "It was windy."

"No other specific noises?"

"None that I ... well ... again, this could be because of the wind; but there was a rustling sound such as a rodent might make. There are plenty of rodents in the labyrinth, of course. I looked on the ground when I changed back, thinking the bridle would have dropped at my feet, but there was nothing there."

"Footprints?"

"Not directly at my feet. Of course, there are footprints in the labyrinth all the time."

"Yeah, of course there are ..." Dipper hummed. "I'll get over to the labyrinth tomorrow and look at your display area. Have you had a chance to talk to Mrs. Balaska? Maybe somebody brought the bridle to her house."

"I did talk to her before sunup, but she hadn't seen it. We both looked until she had to go turn to stone in her garden. Since then, I've been looking for it myself. Some visitors to the labyrinth helped me look under hedges and around the outer wall."

"Why do you think someone would want to steal your bridle?"

Mr. Grey scowled and gazed into the distance. "Perhaps they wanted to trick me, and keep me from turning into my best form. Perhaps I have played a trick on them in the past, and they saw an opportunity for revenge. Or, perhaps they wish to control a difficult beast. Horses wearing my bridle, horses who are not nuggle, become docile. They will do anything the rider asks."

"Do you have any suspects?"

Mr. Grey's light grey eyes clouded to an iron shade. "If I had, I would have visited them first."

"And one more question for the journal: would you class yourself as malevolent or benevolent, or something in between?”

“Malevolent,” said the nuggle, “to the party who took my bridle. Most benevolent to the person who brings it back. I hope you can help me."

"I'll do my best."

Mr. Grey's hand looked dry, with well-manicured, grey and white nails, but his handshake was cool and dripping wet. Dipper didn't want to seem eager to dry his hand off. He let it drip for a moment, and in what he hoped was a discreet way, stuck it out of sight under his notebook and dried off on his shorts.

Mr. Grey took something out of his pocket and held it in his palm to show to Dipper. "If you succeed, I will give you a switchblade knife, like this one." Mr. Grey flicked it open; the blade seemed to have real, green waves moving across it. Dipper blinked, and looked again, and still the waves rippled across the blade.

********

Ford glanced up at the monitor in the lab and said, "Someone's in the driveway."

"It's Cherry Car," said Dipper. "I'll go up."

Cherry Car pulled up and Dipper went out on the porch. "Hi, Angus. Do we have a date I forgot about?"

"Not at three-something in the morning."

"Is it that late?"

"Yeah. I stopped by thinking you and Ford might be doing science all night."

"We are. Come in. What do you need?"

"Argyle and I are ending the night after looking for Dad and not finding him. I don't know if you remember—back last fall—"

"Of course I remember. It's like that again?"

"We don't know. Kinda hope so. Can you and Mabel take a look? It's strawberry season. Dad would risk petrification for strawberries, and there's a patch that the witch planted out there over twenty years ago, that grows wild now."

"I'll get some sleep," said Dipper, "and me and Mabel will go out today. I have to stop by the labyrinth on an investigation errand, anyway."

"Don't rush yourselves. You won't be able to let Dad go until sundown, anyway, if you find him. You should take some berry cups down there and pick a few strawberries for yourselves. Mrs. Balaska lets anyone take what they want."

Dipper and Mabel had late brunch, mostly of giant cinnamon rolls, at the diner. They parked at the grass-grown end of Mrs. Balaska's drive and hiked out to the old garden. Mabel stopped on the way past the scarecrow. "I thought his head was on the ground before. Mrs. Balaska must have come down and put it back on."

"She did say," said Dipper, "that she enchanted this scarecrow with an ability to move when it senses fear. Maybe it put its own head back on."

Mabel shivered.

"Don't get too frightened," warned Dipper. "You'll make him move." He raised the scarecrow's straw-stuffed sleeves and flopped the gloved ends at Mabel.

Mabel made an indignant sound and reached carefully past the gloves to swat Dipper's side. "You don't need to make it worse."

"I don't remember the pumpkin having a face before," said Dipper.

The scarecrow's head now had a simple face drawn on it in permanent marker. It had triangles for eyes, no nose, and a mouth mostly colored in black, with a few orange points left for teeth.

"Come on," said Mabel. "Let's go get Caesar." They looked under the arbor, confident of finding him, but Caesar was not there.

Dipper went out, picked a strawberry from a sunny patch and scanned the field as he stood nibbling. "I was hoping he'd be here. I don't know what else to suggest to Angus and Argyle."

He and Mabel picked and ate several handfuls of strawberries, then returned to the maze, to Mr. Grey's usual spot in front of the plow. They searched outward from there for signs of the bridle, but found nothing illuminating. Back at home, Mabel distributed strawberries to Waddles and the Grunkles while Dipper left a message on the machine at Cherry Farm. "Sorry. Your father wasn't in the arbor, or at the labyrinth. Call the Mystery Shack if you hear from him, or if you think of anywhere else you want us to look."


	15. On the Mountain

********

A couple of days later, Dipper and Angus had a date. Caesar was still missing. Dipper suggested they go hunt for him, as it was all Angus could think about anyway.

"Yeah. Thanks. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it, man. We gotta find him."

"Remember, if you find him yourself, and me and Argyle can't help because of sunlight sticks or something—"

"I know, get Manly Dan. Or, we could pick up all the light sticks we can find, but leave one on Caesar, and then bring you guys in. I'm trying to impress that upon Mabel. She still thinks she's a vampire-proof princess."

"She may be. I want to believe Dad won't hurt her, but it's been days. I don't know what I would do if I were in his place ... wherever that is."

"I do want to go with you. But without me, you could fly to look for him. I might slow down your search, with you waiting for me to catch up to you all the time."

"I'll be glad to have your company."

They turned searching for Caesar into a sort of romantic date, after all, by strolling along lesser-used trails, holding hands part of the time. Occasionally, Angus turned into a bat and flew. Dipper was only slightly embarrassed about holding his clothes for him.

Angus took Dipper for pancakes at the diner before closing time. He kissed him goodnight at the Mystery Shack, and went to look for his dad some more, with Argyle.

Dipper lay on his back in bed, staring at the blurry cracks between the dim ceiling boards. He fell asleep trying to come up with an idea where Caesar might be.

********

The next day, Mabel started out on her bike well before sundown. She began at the base of the steep trail that led to the pink school. Many smaller paths crossed and connected with the main one and with each other. At some spots, sparse brush or a single line of trees showed where switchbacks, squiggles, and tight turns nearly touched, and parted ways again without intersecting. Mabel biked every trail, seeking signs of the passage of a large horse. She knew the primary trail well enough to know where she was along it, whenever she emerged onto it.

She didn't want to go home before she had checked the next narrow trail, and the next. Shadows climbed the trees. Night fell and the row of round, white lamps flicked on. Mabel could see the halos from the offshoot trails.

She returned often to the blanket of white light on the main trail to regain her bearings, then ventured onto another little nook or game trail or footpath. Sometimes she parked her bike under a trail lamp because a smaller path wasn't wide enough for the rear wheels. Up and up the mountain she worked her way.

Mabel heard something big moving in the underbrush and biked in the general direction of the noise. "Caesar, is that you?" No answer. "Angus? Argyle?"

Mabel pedaled along a rocky path with lots of weaving to it. Just as she made it all the way around one turn, she had to take another. Dense brush rose higher than her head on both sides. Somewhere close by a horse snorted and shuffled. "Caesar?"

The rocky way opened out onto a wider dirt path. The silhouette of Caesar's head and neck showed against a piece of slate-colored night sky. He snorted again and jerked his head. Mabel turned her bike so it wouldn't hit his legs with its lamplight. "Caesar! It is you, isn't it? Your sons are looking for you. We thought you were stuck somewhere."

Her headlamp showed something softly shiny on the horse's neck, and she remembered that the headlamp had sunlight powers. "Oops, hang on a second, Caesar, let me turn off my—" the light showed something moving on Caesar's back. It looked like someone was riding him—she saw an arm and a glove. Mabel tilted her head to raise the lamp so it couldn't touch Caesar. It looked like the rider had some kind of net over his head. No, it wasn't really a rider, it was just a shirt and some kind of ball on top—no, the ball was a pumpkin. A net of sisal baler twine, with wide holes, was wrapped around the pumpkin and stuffed into the shirt collar. Inside it, the pumpkin spun to show Mabel a face drawn with permanent marker. The ink mouth grinned, and outlined eyes narrowed.

Mabel drew back. Caesar turned his head and took a few steps in Mabel's direction. A band across his nose shimmered in the dark. Mabel recognized it—it was the bridle from the labyrinth.

Mabel turned her helmet lamp and headlights full on Caesar. Stone swept outward from the spiral of hairs on his forehead, his muzzle paled, his legs turned to stone from his chest down to his hooves. The scarecrow climbed up and showed its pumpkin face between Caesar's ears. Mabel rushed toward Caesar and made a grab for the bridle.

The scarecrow reached with glove and sleeve down Caesar's face, slipped the noseband off, and whipped the bridle out of Mabel's reach. Mabel jumped for it, grasping. She ran around to Caesar's side just as the scarecrow put the bridle away inside its shirt.

"You give me that! What are you doing this for?"

"Come here," said the scarecrow, in a deep, raspy voice that seemed to reverberate inside the pumpkin. "Hand me that light from your head. I need to wake up my horse so he can drink your blood." It slid off of Caesar's side and crawled toward her, the ends of its pant legs limply trailing behind knots where the knees should be.

"No!" Mabel put her helmet on backward, so it would shine on Caesar while she ran. It bobbed awkwardly, plus, she couldn't see where she was going. She tripped and sprawled, and the scarecrow's glove pulled at her heel. Mabel yelled and kicked and scrambled to her feet.

The scarecrow tipped its pumpkin back in its shirt collar and grinned up at her. "Does my horse scare you?"

"Of course Caesar doesn't scare me, you jerk! You do!"

The pumpkin face spun toward Caesar, then back to Mabel. "Why is the horse still made of stone? Your hat with the light is over here, on your head."

Mabel glanced at her bike. Its headlight spotlit Caesar's chest. The scarecrow flicked its ink eyes to follow her look, and skittered toward the bike. Mabel overtook it and ran ahead, but she had no time to ride away. The scarecrow would soon climb all over her and the bike. She cast about for a thick stick, met the scarecrow and shoved the stick through one of the openings in the baler twine netting, down into the shirt collar, and out through a gap between buttons. The scarecrow could not crawl so well, dragging the point of the stick. It stopped, grumbling, to balance on its knee-knots and break the stick in two and work it back out.

Mabel kept an eye on it, running backward to get to her bike, then biked hard for the main path. She had to go back and forth and around and around, though she could see the glow of the trail lights. She didn't want to slow down long enough to find out whether she could force her bike through at a point where the paths almost connected. If she could bait the scarecrow into riding Caesar onto the main trail, under the daylight lamps, Caesar would be stuck and Mabel could go for help.

She wasn't sure whether her taillights were sunlight-capable, but she guessed Grunkle Ford would have foreseen being chased by vampires. She pedaled, one hand and a knee stinging because of her stumble earlier. Caesar's hooves sounded behind her on the dirt path. She slowed, but Caesar didn't come close enough to get stoned again. Mabel altered her route to zigzag near the main trail, hoping to get Caesar and his rider directly behind her again.

She could hear them trot alongside her, on some other path she couldn't see. Caesar's steps raced past her and she slowed. He jumped the brush between the two trails, landed in front of her, and turned to meet her. Her bike lights send a crust of stone over his chest and neck, and she whipped her bike around as fast as she could—not very fast, since it was three-wheeled—and rode the other way. Her taillights made Caesar turn to stone, so he didn't catch up to her immediately, but soon she heard him again.

Mabel came out on the lit trail and listened for hooves. She turned toward the little path she'd come from and pedaled back into the darkness. "Mr. Scarecrow? Is Caesar still hungry?" The summer night hummed, but there was no other sound. "Don't you want to chase me?"

No answer. Mabel was getting the willies from being alone in the dark so long. Back out in the familiar white light on the main trail, Mabel biked slowly up and down, and sometimes ventured to set foot into the underbrush and shine her headlamp around. Pine needles looked softer at night, but shadows were harsher, and branches seemed to detach from the trees and reach for her.

Mabel mounted her bike. Without a sound the scarecrow crawled swiftly out of the underbrush and held onto her front tire. "Come here. I want you to give my horse a little drink."

Mabel screamed. "No, you creep!" She pushed down hard on the pedals, but the scarecrow wouldn't give, and the front tire only rocked back.

"I think he likes you. He's afraid he'll hurt you."

"Well, he wouldn't."

"So, why won't you come with me?"

"Because you're gross and stupid and you kidnapped my boyfriend's dad."

The scarecrow's black ink facial features wrinkled, then smoothed again. "Besides that."

Mabel thought about it. "Poor Caesar."

"So you will feed him, then."

"Only for his sake."

"Leave your bike and your hat. No lights." The scarecrow stood up on its pant-knots and did a wiggling shuffle for a walk. It held out a glove to Mabel, and led her by the hand into the dark woods.

"You can't keep him, you know," said Mabel. "And I can see that you're Mrs. Balaska's scarecrow. You are in so much trouble."

The scarecrow gave a _humph_ and tugged her hand with its glove.

Mabel felt for obstacles with her feet, and considered the situation. The scarecrow would have to let Caesar come alive to drink Mabel's blood. To control him, it would have to put the bridle on him. Caesar would put his face on Mabel, to nip her, and that would put the bridle in reach. She knew the charms Dipper had given her would protect her from supernatural calmness and memory loss when Caesar touched her, but the scarecrow didn't know that. She could take away the scarecrow's complete control over Caesar. That is, she could if she understood how the bridle worked. She thought that putting her hand on the bridle would put Caesar under her control, or at least release him from the creepy scarecrow.

She wondered if there were any special trick to it. What if she couldn't make Caesar do as she wanted? What if he ended up just a hungry vampire, loose with her in the woods?

Mabel couldn't see the auras of the lights anymore. She remembered what Caesar had looked like when she woke him up in the grape arbor, and how his voice had sounded; how later he'd said that he galloped away so he wouldn't eat her. Maybe Caesar did scare her, a little.

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, as long as she didn't try to see the ground near her feet. The scarecrow left her standing on something that felt springy underfoot, like a hollow filled with many layers of old leaves. She thought she could make out the shape of Caesar's ears in front of her. The scarecrow's glove lit up for a second; it had taken an alien glowstick from somewhere. Stone rustled as Caesar's petrification crumbled, and Mabel could hear him breathe.

His eyes lit the hollow, and his black hooves shone with red streaks. The scarecrow sat on his withers, holding the reins. Caesar's nostrils glowed as if they had embers embedded in them. He drew his lips back and the red of his eyes lit up his wet teeth. "Who's this?"

Caesar didn't recognize her. He reached for Mabel's arm. She flinched back.

A fuzzy white thing burst into the clearing, giant paws smacking the leaves, yowling and squalling, like some kind of furious pillow. It leapt in front of Mabel, under Caesar's nose, and shrieked up at him. Caesar reared, the scarecrow wheeled him and rode him away.

The strange creature looked up at Mabel. The clearing was deeply dark, without Caesar's eyes to light it, but the animal's eyes threw back a little greenish-gold light, and his fur showed up like snow. Mabel now saw that he was a white lynx. The lynx asked, "Are you all right?"

"Yes. I think so," she said, adding, "You're so fluffy."

"You're Mabel Pines, aren't you? From down at the Mystery Shack?"

"Yes, that's me."

"I hear about you folks all the time from my daughter Lazy Susan. Come with me, my house is nearby."

Mabel followed the white patch that was Mr. Wentworth. She had to push through brush that he easily ducked under, and he doubled back often to make sure she could see him. He led her to a cabin on a hillside. Its front end was propped up with stilts. Mabel was relieved to be welcomed by a brightly burning porchlight.

The front room had a well-worn armchair, and bookshelves and magazine racks filled with hardcover books and lots of shiny magazines. A bowl of nuts and a nutcracker sat on a round wooden side table. "Help yourself. You'll have to crack and pick the walnuts for yourself, I'm afraid; and there's canned orange or grapefruit juice. Settle down for a minute and catch your breath."

Mabel sank into the chair, which was covered in lynx hairs.

"Use my phone to call home and tell them where you are. Then they won't worry. When you're ready to leave, I'll make sure you get to the Mystery Shack all right."

First Mabel called Cherry Farm and left a message to tell Argyle and Angus that she'd seen their dad, not too far from Mr. Wentworth's cabin, and that he'd been kidnapped by Mrs. Balaska's evil scarecrow. Then she called home.

Mr. Wentworth guided her back through the darkness to within sight of the trail lamplight, then Mabel regained her bearings and retrieved her bike. Mr. Wentworth escorted her down to the Mystery Shack by riding in the basket. 

Dipper was waiting under the backyard lamp by the kitchen door. He flew to meet Mabel and pulled her off of her bike to squeeze her. 

Mabel introduced Mr. Wentworth. Dipper said he was glad to know him and shook his paw, and in only a few bounds the lynx disappeared back the way he had come.

Dipper touched Mabel's arm and patted her cheek, acting like he was just happy to see her, but, she felt, very obviously checking her for injury. "What happened up there?"

"I'm fine. Caesar is wearing Mr. Grey's bridle! The scarecrow is using it to mind-control him. You should have come with me. You would have saved Caesar in a minute. I had a plan, and I blew it."

"But you found Caesar! That's great. Argyle and Angus will know where to look."

"He could be anywhere by the time they get a chance to go search up there. The scarecrow can ride Caesar around, anywhere it wants."

"Then our best chance is to find Caesar during the day, when he'll be petrified."

"I hope we can. But when we do, you won't get the bridle. It doesn't turn to stone along with him, so all the scarecrow has to do is take it off of Caesar's face, and hide it. You know the way Mr. Grey looks, in the labyrinth, with himself all stone and the bridle normal? I turned Caesar to stone, but the bridle didn't change."

"That's good information," said Dipper. "You used good, level-headed observation skills in a tense situation."

"I wasn't level-headed enough. Caesar was so scary up on the mountain. It's not like him. And that stupid mean scarecrow had a head that was a pumpkin tied onto his shirt with baler twine. It was all special effects. I should have picked it up by the twine and smashed it against the tree, see how it liked that."

"First of all, you were very brave. Second, if you see that thing again, don't touch it. Run for help. You did the right thing."

Mabel handed Dipper a threadbare blue clothbound book out of her bike basket. "I saw this old Sibling Brothers book, and Mr. Wentworth let me take it home to loan to you."

Dipper read the cover, flipped to the flyleaf. "Wow! This is one of the old printings—it's a longer story, with the old-fashioned slang and the racist terms they can't use now. This is amazing! I'm gonna start reading this right away. Thanks, Mabel."

Later, Dipper was propped against his pillow, reading, and Mabel came to him in her pjs. "This would seem to be a bed-sharing night."

"Yeah, sure," he said absently, his eyes on the Sibling Brothers book, and raised an elbow to make room for her to tuck her head under and put her hand on his chest.

Dipper kept half of his attention on his book. He had one ear on Mabel while she told him for the second or third time that night how she blamed herself for letting the scarecrow lead her around and make her lose her way in the woods, and how scared Caesar must have been that he might hurt her, though he thought she was a stranger. "Too much stupid stuff happened up there," she said. "How could someone as nice as Mrs. Balaska make something as awful as that scarecrow? I hate Gravity Falls."

Dipper didn't try to talk her out of that sentiment when she was upset. He gave her a squeeze and went on reading. Dipper loved Gravity Falls.

********


	16. Supernatural Stuff

********

The next day, Mabel said, "I'm getting dressed for the woods. We have to go looking for Caesar."

"Get dressed to hike, yeah," said Dipper. "But first, now that we have some daylight, let's go verify that it was the same scarecrow you saw."

"I'm sure it was the same. I saw his permanent-marker face. It moved. The ink moved."

"Let's go have a look at where he used to be."

Dipper and Mabel could tell before they got down to the grape arbor that the scarecrow no longer stood in its accustomed place. They went all the way down there anyway, and examined the tomato cage. Dipper said, "The witch said the scarecrow is able to move around a little bit, if it has fear to feed on."

"It can move around a lot more than a little bit."

Dipper pondered. "Now that it has Caesar, it can. It only needed to move a little bit in the first place, to trap him. There are lots of grow lights scattered around here. Caesar came to pick strawberries, and the scarecrow was ready for him. It petrified Caesar, stole the bridle from Mr. Grey, and rode Caesar away to a hiding place somewhere. It must have climbed back onto its frame after that, so we wouldn't suspect it. We came looking for Caesar and didn't find him. Probably he was very close by. We left, and the scarecrow took him out of his hiding place."

"And we still don't know where he is. And I was so close."

"Let's talk to the witch tonight and see what she knows."

"But right now, we search the woods?"

"Yes, we search the woods."

They drove back to the Mystery Shack and began at the base of the trail. A few discouraging hours later, Dipper said, "That scarecrow could make Caesar lie down, petrify him, and bury him in leaves. We would have to trip over him to find him."

Mabel picked up a stick and carried it with her to poke every leaf pile they passed, and Dipper did the same. This slowed their search, but since they didn't know where to look, that hardly seemed to matter. "We might get lucky," said Mabel, but they didn't.

It was almost suppertime, and there was a yellow ochre sunset haze behind the mountain. Dipper said, "I hate to give up. But I'm beginning to feel like this is dumb."

"This is a lot of wilderness," agreed Mabel.

Dipper called Cherry Farm after nightfall; no answer. He reached Angus at the bar in town where he went every night. Angus told him, "We got Mabel's message last night and went up there. We just missed Dad, and it's my fault. I should have been able to get him. It was completely still, no wind in the pines to mess with my hearing. I could hear Dad breathing. Tried to home in and the sound stopped. That happened three or four times. We kept circling in tighter, going slowly, then I'd hear him outside the circle we'd made."

"Are you sure it was him? Could it have been another large animal you heard breathing? Or maybe more than one?"

"It was him. I know his breathing."

"You recognize your dad's breathing?"

"I recognize everyone's breathing."

"You mean you can pick out mine? From other people's?"

"It's a vampire bat thing."

"Oh," said Dipper. "Well, somebody besides Mabel has to have seen them by now. The scarecrow has to get Caesar fed. I'll ask around town."

"You might find something out," said Angus. "You might not. If the scarecrow is capable of being smart about this, it's only going near one person at a time. With the bridle, it can make Dad stop drinking blood before he's had enough. He could be so hungry by now that he won't have any choice but to make people forget what they saw, if he touches them."

"I have work at the museum tomorrow," Mabel said, "but looking for Caesar is more important."

"No, go to work," said Dipper. "Angus and Argyle are going to keep looking tonight." He said goodnight to Angus and hung up.

"But if they don't find him, Caesar might kill someone, and then he'll be heartbroken!"

"No. I don't think he'll be able to kill anyone. The scarecrow won't let him. As long as it has the bridle on Caesar, he can't do anything it won't let him do. It wants fear, not bloodshed. It'll want to scare Caesar by letting him come close to hurting someone, but it won't let him loose to do it."

"That's not comforting, Dipper."

"I know, I'm sorry. We will figure something out when we know better where to look. If Angus and Argyle don't find him tonight, I'll go looking with the Grunkles tomorrow. Let's go see the witch."

A perpetual low-opacity glow from the alien lights in the labyrinth rose over the black forms of the hedges. Mrs. Balaska met them at her door with a dishtowel, and made them come in and sit at the kitchen table. "I have these dishes to put away. You start on that lemon streusel. No, Dipper, it's not enchanted. Or haunted. Have you found Caesar?"

"Not yet. We spent the day searching the trails, but we're afraid it's a waste of time."

"I ought to fly up there tonight and help."

Dipper said, "The scarecrow—"

"Thatch," said Mabel.

"Thatch?"

"Its name is Thatch," said Mabel. "Because it's a scare-nuthatch. His name is short for nuthatch."

"Only if you pronounce nuthatch wrong," said Dipper.

"I'm not going to call him T'hatch. That would be silly."

"Thatch, then—so glad to know the wicked scarecrow has a whimsical name, thank you, Mabel—"

"You're welcome!"

"Thatch is acting mean. What if he holds some sort of grudge against his creator?"

"I'm not afraid of him," Mrs. Balaska assured Dipper. "I'm sorry he's causing so much trouble. Poor Mabel. He must have given you a turn."

"Since you are his creator, can you make him behave? Or unenchant ... uh, disenchant him?"

"Sadly, it's not that easy. If he's riding around on Caesar and really likes it, there's not much I can do to make him quit. It's quite a bit easier to do an enchantment than to undo one. I apologize. I thought he was staying on his tomato cage. Of course, if I see him, I'll give him a serious talking-to. And I'll try to get the bridle, if he brings Caesar around here. What else can I do to help?"

Dipper told her, "You'd better be careful, since you can't control Thatch. Stay safe. Mabel and I are used to supernatural stuff like your scarecrow. We'll handle it."

********

That night, Dipper napped, but while Mabel was still asleep, he got out of bed and went down to the lab. He drilled holes through short pieces of grow light and bolted them to the links of some strong metal chain.

When he figured it was about time that the vampires would have to quit for the night, he went up and waited on the porch. He sipped weak-but-hot coffee that Stan had made.

Hoofbeats slowly approaching made Dipper perk up, but the hooves did not belong to Caesar. This horse was much smaller and shaggier, and had a horn.

"Argyle?"

The unicorn snorted and shook his thick mane. He had a dappled brown coat, a lot of forelock, and a trailing, wavy tassel on his tail. Dinky little cloven hooves peeked from under the long hair on his lower legs. "Yes, it's me. Is Angus here yet?"

At that moment Angus galloped up, in his long, reaching, gorilla-style gait.

"We didn't get Dad," said Argyle. "We were close, but we didn't get him."

"What happened?" asked Dipper.

Angus said, "It turns out that thing can ride, and use magical alien lights at the same time."

"I almost got my teeth in its boot," said Argyle, "but it kept petrifying my nose."

"Wait," said Dipper. "Boot? It had pants knotted up at the knee."

Argyle said, "Well, now it's got itself a pair of boots. The pant legs are tucked into the boots. It can hang on with its legs, like a human rider can do."

"I bet it was going to take Dad near town and let him eat a little bit, before it ran into us," said Angus. "We didn't get him, so all we really did tonight was make Dad hungrier."

"That darn scarecrow can't petrify me," Dipper said grimly. "I'll do something about him."

********

Mabel, Dipper, and Soos spent the morning hours walking back and forth across the hillside where Argyle and Angus had lost sight of Caesar. Dipper couldn't settle into a walking pace. He glanced restlessly around at the horizon. "We're not getting anywhere. This isn't working. Let's go home. Mabel and I need to get some sleep this afternoon. We have a plan for tonight."

"We do?"

"I'll explain it in detail when we get back to the Mystery Shack."

Soos, fortified by his slice of infinite pizza and a canteen of iced tea, elected to stay out and look until evening.

Mabel and Dipper had honey and banana sandwiches at the kitchen table. Mabel warned him when she was going to put ketchup on hers. He looked away until she had finished squirting the ketchup and put the slice of bread on top, so he wouldn't have to watch.

While they were eating, Dipper showed Mabel the chain with grow lights bolted to it. "This is Caesar's daylight collar. I'm going to get it around his neck and snap a combination padlock onto it—I've memorized the combination. It will trap Caesar in stone form, Thatch won't be able to ride away, and he'll have to give up. Problem solved."

"How are you going to get it around his neck?"

"I'll need a distraction. I'm going to make Thatch think I'm alone. You'll be hiding nearby. When Thatch gets close to me—when he lets Caesar get close enough to drink blood from me—you'll jump out and distract him, and I'll get the chain around Caesar's neck."

"I can be very distracting."

"Mr. Grey's bridle doesn't have a throatlatch, and that means it will come off easily over Caesar's ears. Caesar will be stone once I get the chain around his neck, so we'll be safe from him when I remove the bridle."

"How will you keep Thatch from taking the bridle back from you?"

"I'll shove it down my pants."

Mabel put a thumb to her lip in thought. She found honey on her thumb, and licked it up. "What if the scarecrow isn't embarrassed about reaching down your pants?"

Dipper straightened nobly in his chair. "That's a chance I'll have to take."

********

At suppertime, Soos checked in to report no sign of a stone horse, nor anything else suspicious. "A badger tried to get my infinite pizza, but it only got a bite. Luckily my trusty slice comes back from badger bites as well as Soos bites. So I gave it another bite. I think the badger and I are, like, friends now. I shall call her Ramoña."

At twilight, Dipper walked on a broad footpath with tips of jagged rocks poking up where dirt had worn away. On his right was a steep wall of pine woods; on his left, a row of shrubs and beyond them, a grassy field. He carried no lantern, so his eyes wouldn't be tricked by one limited circle of light, and he could get a good general view of his surroundings.

Dipper had to hide the glowing of the grow light chain until the last possible moment. To that end, he had encased the chain in a series of tube socks with the toes cut off, and Mabel had basted the socks together for him. He hid the sock-covered chain in his jacket.

He was well out of sight of the peak of the Mystery Shack's roof, but the glow from the trail lamps behind him still filtered up through the treetops. The glow faded as Dipper rounded a bend and came to the mouth of the trail where Mabel, much higher up the mountain, had met the scarecrow originally. This was also where Argyle and Angus had surprised Thatch the night before. The path went up steeply into darkness. Dipper strolled a little way past it.

Bushes rustled, and there were scuffing, skipping footsteps. Mabel touched Dipper's shoulder and loudly whispered, "Do you think Mr. Grey will mind that you had the bridle down your pants, when he has to wear it on his face?"

"He's a water horse. He swims around in lake water all day, he can't be that fussy. And he doesn't need to know, as long as my _sister_ doesn't blab to him. Now don't talk to me anymore. We're not supposed to be seen together."

Mabel made a lip-zipping and locking motion and threw away the imaginary key. She veered off the path and with one brief rustle obscured herself in the brush. The sky darkened from twilight grey to midnight blue. Dipper turned and walked slowly back toward the mouth of the trail. Tall trees crowded the steep path; Dipper stayed out in the open. He watched the woods for signs of Caesar's glowing red eyes, and paused to listen for hoofbeats. He went on. When he could again see the glow from Ford's lights, he turned back toward the darkness and retraced his steps to the trail mouth.

Mabel could be surprisingly quiet. Dipper tried to figure out where she was in relation to him; he had passed a gap in the scrub with no sign of her. He had expected to see her running low from cover to cover. Dipper watched for motion on the woods side, though he had warned Mabel to stay on the open side, in the lighter cover where a huge horse like Caesar couldn't be easily hidden. Dipper checked to see if Mabel were behind him, and did a double take, thinking he was imagining the red shine because he'd been looking for it so hard before. It was one of Caesar's eyes.


	17. Dipper's Plan

********

Caesar stood side on to Dipper with his forehooves on the path. Mr. Grey's bridle gleamed on his muzzle and cheek. Dipper saw the pale color of the scarecrow's work shirt, then turned his back when he remembered he had to act surprised.

It was hard work not to look back. Dipper went on for several yards before he heard Caesar walking behind him, and turned in what he hoped was a casual way. It wasn't hard to give a little start, because he didn't like the look in Caesar's eyes: desperate, distant. They seemed to glow more hotly than they had in the grape arbor.

Dipper cleared his throat, felt in his jacket for the light chain, recalled that the natural reaction would be to run, and started off. Within very few strides Caesar was in front of him and angled to block him. Dipper had gotten into the instinct of running, wheeled to go back, and something grabbed the collar of his jacket and held him fast. Hot breath swirled the hair on his nape—Caesar was holding him with his teeth. Though his heart pounded, Dipper went limp. He knew better than to struggle in the grip of a hungry vampire.

"Drop him," said Thatch, and Caesar let Dipper's jacket go.

Dipper cast about for something to imagine that could make him experience some real fear, to give Thatch what he wanted. He thought of the vampire boys coming back from looking for their dad, the night before. What if the scarecrow had petrified Angus, and left him somewhere in the woods, with a light on him? Dipper pictured Angus in a valley with vines growing over him. He pictured himself, with a beard and a walking stick, ruggedly hiking the mountainside every day, looking for his boyfriend. This had some appeal, so Dipper backed it off to imagining Argyle having come back in the wee hours without Angus, and that was enough. He faced the scarecrow. "What do you want?"

"My horse is thirsty."

"Your horse is terrifying. Also, he's not yours."

"Touch his nose. He's nice and soft."

"Aaah!" That was Mabel. "A vampire horse with glowing eyes! Throw glowsticks at it! Hi, Caesar! Hi, Thatch! Remember me?"

"It's the girl from the woods," said Thatch, and rotated his pumpkin to face Dipper. "You must be Thatch."

"No, you're Thatch. She named you."

"I have a name? What would I need a name for?"

Mabel pelted Caesar with pieces of alien grow light. Caesar tossed his head. The skin on his neck crackled, and a dusting of stone from his switching tail stung Dipper's face. Thatch jumped down, keeping one rein in his glove, and scooped up the lights. He shoved them between the buttons of his shirt, out of sight in the rustling straw. Mabel ran up and held a grow light against Caesar's shoulder.

Dipper inched the padlock chain out of his jacket. Thatch clamped his glove over Mabel's hand, and Mabel screamed. Thatch growled, "Let the light go."

Mabel twisted and yanked her arm, but Thatch held her fast. "Let the light go," he said again, "and I'll let you go."

"No!"

Dipper clenched his jaw and blew through his nostrils. Keeping to the side of Caesar's neck that was opposite Thatch and Mabel, he slid the padlock end of the chain upward with the heel of his hand. He kept it covered with the tube socks. Caesar's neck was quivering and warm. The horse ducked and shook his head and for a minute Dipper's shoulder was caught in the crook between Caesar's hard cheekbones and his throat.

Mabel got another light out of her pocket with her free hand and threw it to land between Caesar's rear feet. He stamped; Dipper eyed the heavy hoof. Thatch let Mabel go and leaned to grab the light that lay between Caesar's rear hooves.

Dipper stood on tiptoe to get the padlock over Caesar's neck, dropping the lock and one end of the chain over so its weight would hold it in place. He let out a loop of chain under Caesar's throat, and the chain jingled quietly.

Thatch's face turned toward Dipper. "What are you doing?"

"Thatch, look at me!" Mabel did a dance with two grow lights, holding them in her fists and shaking her butt at Thatch.

"You've run out of lights," said Thatch. "Otherwise you'd throw those. And you—" to Dipper "—give me that chain."

Dipper made a grab for the padlock, but Thatch got to it first and dragged the chain across Caesar's neck. Dipper pulled off the tube sock cover, but as soon as the lights appeared they disappeared again, inside Thatch's shirt. "You kids want the vampire? Think you can handle him?"

Dipper patted his pockets for a loose alien light. "You can't handle him yourself without the bridle, you coward."

"Can _you_ handle him without the bridle?" Thatch lifted the crownpiece and slid the bridle down and off over Caesar's face. Mabel rushed in and pressed a light to Caesar's flank, and tossed a second light to Dipper.

Caesar flung his freed head toward his flank. Thatch was in the way and Caesar's muzzle softly thudded on the work shirt. Thatch forced the light out of Mabel's hand. Caesar swung his head forward and met Dipper's palm with his cheek. Dipper held the light Mabel had thrown to him against Caesar's cheek, and Caesar snorted and jerked back, almost sitting down. White slobber dripped from his lips. He said, "Run."

Dipper clenched the light. "Caesar, it's me, Dipper Pines. Try to calm down. I only want to—"

Caesar lunged and rammed into Dipper with his chest. Dipper stumbled and fell on his back. Caesar followed him down, pushing with his forehead. Dipper held the grow light piece tightly in his fist. He tried to open his hand just enough to let some light touch Caesar. Caesar's nose bumped Dipper's chin. Dipper was in danger of dropping the light, and he made a tight fist around it again and struggled backward on heels and elbows. Caesar bracketed Dipper's arms with his knees. "I told you to run." Then his voice turned low and soothing, and he lipped Dipper's chin, "Hold still, I'll be gentle, this won't hurt much."

Dipper's knuckles ached sharply from trying to reveal enough light to touch Caesar's skin, without opening his hand all the way and letting the stick fall. Caesar pinned his arms, and Dipper had no room to help himself with his left hand. He tried to twist his pinched forearm and shine the light on Caesar's chest. However much he pushed, he couldn't get Caesar to budge his foreleg, and he couldn't slide his own hip sideways enough to make space. Caesar nudged the collar of Dipper's jacket aside at his shoulder and bit through his T-shirt and into his skin.

Dipper opened his fingers without being able to turn his palm up, and the light shone out for a second from behind Caesar's elbow, then blinked out again. Dipper felt it slide off his palm and into his jacket at his waist.

Caesar licked Dipper's shoulder for a few moments, seemed to get frustrated trying to lick blood through a shirt, and bit off a piece of fabric and spit it out. He swiped the spot with his tongue. His breath moistened the pocket of air Dipper's jacket collar made around his neck and shoulder.

Mabel grabbed Caesar's tail and pulled. He flicked one ear but otherwise paid no attention. Mabel came around to his head, put her hands under the curve of his cheek and heaved, but he would not lift his head. "Ugh! Caesar, this is not like you. Get a grip on yourself." She elbowed his neck, then leaned on him. She gave up and rushed at Thatch. "Give me that bridle! Make him stop!" Mabel kicked where Thatch's shins should be, but all she impacted was boot leather.

Thatch held the bridle in one glove and lazily pushed Mabel away with the other. She snatched part of the bridle; Thatch jerked it from her hand, hefted her up and slung her on her belly over Caesar's withers. "Stay there until I decide my horse is done eating."

"Get your stupid disgusting glove off my butt! And he's not your horse! Caesar, quit eating my brother!"

From on his back on the ground Dipper could see Mabel's legs kicking at Caesar's rib cage, and Thatch leaning on Caesar and holding Mabel to keep her from jumping down. A huge white paw on a long white forearm materialized over Caesar's back, by Thatch's pumpkin head, and Dipper's first thought was, _yeti_. There was a scratchy, twangy, ripping sound, the paw withdrew, and Thatch's glove went to his collar.

Then two white paws reached across Caesar's back, and this time, Dipper recognized them as lynx paws. Toes spread wide, the paws grabbed Thatch's head and pulled it away, the fraying ends of baler twine trailing after it. Thatch's body sprang over Caesar's back in pursuit of the pumpkin.

Caesar paid no attention. He slurped Dipper's blood, and slimed up his skin with his tongue. Mabel's feet hit the ground by Caesar's knee. She pushed strands of her hair out of her mouth. "Hey, bro-bro. Got any blood left?"

"Are you all right? Was that Mr. Wentworth?"

"Yeah! He grabbed Thatch's head." From close by came a scream like a long, nasty scratch across a record. "They're fighting over it now."

"Quick, get the light. Down in my jacket someplace."

Mabel dove for his jacket and Dipper felt her fingertips on his side. "Got it!" And again her fingers, on his rib cage. "Tickle, tickle!"

Dipper squirmed. "Mabel! Seriously."

"Okay! Here we go. Caesar, get ready to petrify."

Caesar kept on heedlessly licking as he turned to stone from his shoulder outward. His tongue petrified and chilled on Dipper's shoulder. "That is actually grosser than him licking me."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, let me just ... wiggle out ... from under here." Dipper tried to wriggle backward, but Caesar's stone tongue in the indent of his collarbone, and Caesar's knees above his elbows, held him tight. Dipper tried to scoot underneath the horse's chest, his upper arms rubbing Caesar's forelegs, but his shoulders were too wide to fit, and his chin met Caesar's nose. "I can't move."

Mabel tried pulling Dipper backward by his shoulders, then tugging on each of his feet in turn. "I think we're gonna have to wake him up, bro-bro. Here he comes. Get ready to move."

Caesar snorted, blew stone out of his nostrils and stood, knees creaking. Dipper scrambled backward to get out from under him, and Caesar lunged, his lips wrinkled back over his fangs. Mabel got him again with the light. His ear twitched when the petrification spread on his face, but he wouldn't be distracted from Dipper, and turned to stone in the act of taking an awkward step forward with his neck stretched and his tongue sticking out.

Dipper said, "Hold that light on him. I'm going to go help Mr. Wentworth and get that bridle." He strode toward the angry lynx noises, took a pause to wobble unexpectedly sideways, regained his balance, and waited for his right leg and elbow to wake up.

Mr. Wentworth was rolling the pumpkin head along the ground in its tattered net. He yelled to Dipper, "He put the bridle down his collar. It's inside his shirt."

The face on the pumpkin as Mr. Wentworth rolled it was down, then up; Thatch's headless body seemed confused, and swiveled in place. Dipper rushed for the front of the shirt. As soon as he began to undo a button, Thatch shoved Dipper away. Mr. Wentworth deserted the pumpkin and leapt onto Thatch's back, and Thatch raised both of his gloves over his shoulders to try and grasp the slippery werelynx.

Mr. Wentworth perched on Thatch's back, reached through the shirt collar and pulled out tufts of straw. The straw collected in a thin coating like magnetized filings and moved over the collar and back inside the shirt. Thatch grabbed Mr. Wentworth by one elbow and his scruff, tipped him into a headstand and dumped his head and shoulders down into the shirt collar. Mr. Wentworth's rear paws kicked and his bobtail puffed up with rage.

With Thatch's gloves busy with the lynx, Dipper opened the middle button, rummaged in Thatch's shirt cavity, felt something soft in the prickly straw, gave it a tug and found it was one of Mr. Wentworth's front toes. He let go and fished around, felt a different soft thing, grasped it and pulled it out. The soft thing squirmed. Dipper startled and opened his fist. A mouse scrabbled on his palm, gave the side of his hand a wiggly tickle with its whiskers, and jumped to the ground.

Thatch succeeded in dunking Mr. Wentworth all the way down through his collar. Mr. Wentworth punched the shirt from inside with all four paws, making ghostly noises. Dipper stuck his hand back in, grabbed the next soft object he found in the straw, and pulled out the braided bridle. Before he could make off with it, Thatch closed a glove over one rein.

Dipper fought, twisting the glove at the shirt cuff. Thatch took Dipper's upper arm in a tight grip. Dipper focused on the glove holding the rein. He unbuttoned the cuff, messed up all the straw he could reach, and gave the bridle a jerk. Thatch's glove came off, gripping the rein. The straw Dipper had strewn slithered back into the cuff, but Dipper had the bridle—and Thatch had a solid hold on Dipper's arm with his other glove.

Mr. Wentworth traveled back up inside the shirt, stuck his head out and chewed on the collar, making angry whines and boiling, bubbling growls. Thatch put his gloveless sleeve over the lynx's head. Dipper balled up the bridle and and threw it. "Mabel!"

Mabel was sneaking toward the head where it lay tangled in its twine on the ground, its face toward Thatch's body. Beyond her, Dipper could see a glow coming from Caesar's stone ear. Mabel had tucked a grow light in there. Dipper called, "No, leave the head! Stay with Caesar! Get the bridle."

Mabel picked up the bridle, with Thatch's glove still in a fist around one rein. She tried to pry it off one finger at a time, then gave the rein some hard whips and flicks. The glove held on. Mabel whapped the glove against the ground.

"Get the bridle on Caesar," Dipper yelled.

"Thatch's gross disembodied glove is on the rein!" Mabel stepped on the glove and pulled the rein with both hands. "Ugh! It's too strong for me."

"Forget the glove. Hurry and put the bridle on." Dipper struggled to escape Thatch's grip.

Mabel put the bridle on Caesar. A moment later she cried, "Hey! The glove stole our glowstick! It climbed right up the rein and onto Caesar's head!"

Caesar's light-grey stone body shaded to black, and he shook his ears and tossed his head. Thatch's glove wobbled as it clung at his poll, its fingers wrapped around one rein and the crownpiece. Mabel held the other rein, hopped and reached for the glove. Caesar whipped his head around and his eyes fired red. "Caesar it's me, Mabel ... he won't listen to me. What's wrong with this bridle?" Caesar shuffled fretfully, bending his hocks and lifting his forefeet as if he wanted to push off into a run.

Mabel said, "Dipper! I think the glove has half-control over Caesar. It's trying to make him run. But I still have one rein. Easy, calm down, Caesar. Let me climb up and see if I can get that glove off of you."

"No, Mabel, don't try to climb him!"

Thatch held onto Dipper with both sleeves and one glove. Mr. Wentworth stuck a foreleg out and clawed at the scarecrow's buttons. Thatch flung a sleeve up and switched his hold to just the one glove, clenching the back of Dipper's jacket. Dipper shed his jacket and darted to help Mabel. Thatch yanked Dipper back by the waist of his shorts and lifted him off the ground. Dipper put both hands behind his back and got Thatch's shirt cuff unbuttoned, pulled out straw and threw his own weight around until the glove came off the sleeve and Dipper landed hard, with the glove attached to his shorts.

"Caesar, old pal, stop thrashing around." Mabel grabbed a lock of Caesar's mane, bounced on one foot and tried to mount up, but her leg slipped before she could hook a foot over his tall back. Caesar circled and Mabel ran against his shoulder. She backed up in a hurry to get out of the way of a stomping hoof.

"Mabel, watch out for his feet! He'll kick you by mistake." Dipper got up on his hands and knees. The glove crawled up his back and over his head, dropped to the ground in front of him and scuttled toward Caesar. Dipper got to his feet and ran to help Mabel, and went sprawling. The glove had tripped him.

Caesar pulled straight back, leaning on Mabel's rein. He snaked his neck, hopped forward suddenly and slackened the rein. He reared, and Mabel lost her grip on him. Caesar made a leap and in a couple of long, trotting strides he met Thatch.

Thatch's shirt, with Mr. Wentworth inside, detached itself from the pants, tearing away the straw stuffing at the waist. It flung itself to the ground and rolled away from Caesar. Thatch's pants and boots hopped astride Caesar's withers. The shirt stopped rolling, and Mr. Wentworth backed out of the bottom. Before he could get his bearings, the sleeves squeezed him and rubbed his fur from tail to ears and back again until he was all staticky. The shirt let him go, flipped across the ground like a cotton flounder and grabbed Caesar's tail. Mr. Wentworth stood unsteadily on splayed legs.

Dipper snatched up the ends of twine net with Thatch's head in it and ran, thinking to climb an oak tree. Caesar pounded up behind him and ripped the twine out of Dipper's hand with his teeth. Caesar and the scarecrow galloped away up the trail with the pumpkin head bumping against Caesar's chest and the shirt flapping on the end of his tail.

********


	18. Summerween at the Labyrinth

********

Dipper nursed his rope-burned fingers while Mabel waved her arms and stomped around. "I almost had him! I had my hands on the bridle! Stupid scarecrow!"

"You did good," said Dipper. "You did the best you could."

"I'll see if I can track down Caesar and that scarecrow," said Mr. Wentworth, "but I'm afraid they've gotten away on us again."

Dipper said, "Thanks for your help, Mr. Wentworth."

Dipper and Mabel walked home, where Dipper changed out of his torn and bloody shirt. "We should go see Mrs. Balaska right away, tonight, while she's still awake."

They took the Caddy out to The Witch's Mystery Labyrinth. Mrs. Balaska's porch light was lit. On the front door handle hung a sign in the shape of an owl's face, with a little strip of wood tacked to it, that had the words "Owl be back" wood-burned into it.

"She must be eating out," said Dipper, and sat on the porch with his feet on the top step. "We'll wait." Mabel sat next to him and put her head on his shoulder. Dipper patted her knee.

Less than half an hour later, a tiny owl landed on the porch railing. "Hello, younger Pines twins! Give me a minute to change." She disappeared around the side of the house. A minute later the front door unlatched, and Mrs. Balaska stood inside in her webby shawl and a dress that dragged on the floor. She waved Dipper and Mabel inside.

"Thatch is too much for me," Dipper said immediately. "I underestimated him."

"We'll take any help you can give us," said Mabel. "We know you can't unenchant Thatch, but is there anything else you can do?"

Mrs. Balaska thought it over. "I might be able to do a spell, if you can get close enough to Caesar to put something in the bag he carries his consecrated earth in."

"We were close enough for that tonight," said Dipper.

"Come back day after tomorrow. I'll have the spell ready for you. The door will be unlocked."

Back at home, Dipper was nervous when he saw Cherry Car in front of the Mystery Shack. Angus was waiting for them on the porch, and he came to the Caddy to greet them. Dipper squared himself to admit he'd failed. He brought Angus into the kitchen and told him everything.

"Dad must feel terrible about knocking you down," said Angus.

"My tailbone took a scuffing, my pride is bruised, but I'm all right. I hope he knows that. Anyway, Mrs. Balaska is going to help us. Mabel and I went right to her and she's going to make something to help us get your dad back."

Angus hugged him. "Me and Argyle will have another try tomorrow night, while you're waiting for the spell."

"Be careful," Dipper said emphatically.

Mabel and Dipper had all the following day to volunteer at the museum and do science with Grunkle Ford. They both wanted to spend some time with Grunkle Stan, so they went grocery shopping with him. Mabel picked out the most delicious groceries, and Dipper made sure that everything that had gone into the cart ended up on the belt for the checker, and not in his relatives' pockets.

Angus called overnight, to let Dipper know he and Argyle had not been petrified against their will by the scarecrow, but they hadn't found hide nor hair of Caesar, either.

Dipper and Mabel reported to Mrs. Balaska's house during daylight. Dipper stepped onto the porch and tried to turn the knob, then jiggled it. "Huh. The door is locked. She said she'd leave it unlocked."

"Maybe she forgot,” said Mabel. “Guess we have to break in."

"Or we can just come back after dark."

"Aw. Hey—look." Mabel held up the owl-face sign that hung on the doorknob. Someone had scrawled the word "never" in permanent marker on the wooden sign, so it now read, "Owl _never_ be back." "That scarecrow took her! How will we ever find her? She's so little."

"I was afraid he would do something like that. We have to think. Thatch has no use for her. The bridle won't fit her face. He would only take her to get her out of the way."

"He put her someplace with a glowstick on her," said Mabel. "He wouldn't bother carrying a statue around, even if she is little."

"She's on this property, near where he caught her unawares," guessed Dipper.

"She sits in the garden in owl form," said Mabel. They looked inside the fountains, and got down on their hands and knees to look under each shrub and decoration. Dipper finally stood up straight and stretched his back.

"I think she's not in the house," said Mabel. “Thatch's note is being all smart about how she'll never be back—he didn't put her in the house."

They checked under pots and dusty, cobwebby cabinets in the dim garden shed.

"Somewhere in the labyrinth?" wondered Dipper.

"We will literally never find her in there," said Mabel. "The sun is setting. Let's go get some help before it's totally dark."

Stan was at home. "I'll come back with you. Leave it to me. I'm an expert on sneaky hiding places."

Mabel and Dipper also picked up some flashlights so they could look in the rafters in the garden shed, and in case they had to start looking under every hedge in the maze. Stan said their first instinct was right, that Mrs. Balaska was somewhere close to the house. He looked in a window well and a flowerbed, then joined Mabel and Dipper in the garden shed.

Stan said, "How would you describe the scarecrow's personality? Disrespectful? Vindictive?"

"Smug," said Dipper.

"Mean," Mabel contributed.

Stan threw the garden shed door open wider to let in moonlight, and peered under a planting table. "Bring me that flashlight." Rows of bags leaned against each other under the table. Stan tipped bags forward, one at a time. "Potting soil ... more potting soil ... peat moss ... kitty litter." He dragged out the kitty litter. The bag was the kind made of thick paper, with string stitches holding it closed at the top. The flashlight showed that this bag had been crudely sewn up to make it appear that it had never been opened. Stan picked the stitches, pulled the string, and dumped the kitty litter onto the floor. Out fell a stone owl, tied up in a rag. A grow light was in the rag, and when Stan put it away in his pocket, Mrs. Balaska shuddered out of her petrification. She flew at Stan's neck. He threw up his arms and fended her off. "Ow! Dangit, Phyllis!"

"I brought bandages," Mabel offered, to Stan.

"I'm all right now," said Mrs. Balaska. "Sorry about that. I'll fly into town and visit someone who usually feeds me."

Dipper requested, "Can you try not to be an owl? Your small size makes you too vulnerable."

"Oh, don’t worry about me. I'm going to be able to see Thatch long before he sees me, if I'm flying. I don't think that old scarecrow can fly. I prefer to fly, and I don't want to be in human form all the time. The nuthatches already got into the blood while I was out of the garden today."

“He'll trick you somehow,” said Dipper.

“Well, I'll consider it,” said Mrs. Balaska.

"I know you're hungry and in a hurry," said Mabel. "But can we pick up that spell you were going to make for us?"

"I'm sorry, but it's only half done. I was supposed to finish it last night, but that silly scarecrow must have taken me right out of my own garden yesterday. Stop by my house before the labyrinth party on Summerween and pick up your spell then."

********

The next night was Summerween. Dipper and Mabel biked down to the labyrinth before sunset. It looked as if the great pine at the end of the drive had suddenly shed large numbers of grey pinecones. Dipper had a closer look, and shuddered at the tiny forms of nuthatches, lying petrified all over the layers of pine needles on the ground. He shook it off. "This makes sense. The witch did say she hasn't been able to sit in her garden and scare them off." Still, he was not the only one who found it creepy; Mabel did not pick up and play with any of the stone birds.

Mabel tried the front door. “It’s unlocked. We can just go in. She probably left our spell sitting out for us.”

The chandelier and a table lamp with a scalloped glass shade lit the front room. Dipper counted four tables, each of them holding things that might be identified as spell components.

"This is the craft table," said Mabel, surveying the dining table. "Must be—it's the only table with both shears and glitter."

"Do you see anything here that's a finished craft? Anything that could be our spell? I don't see a note or anything, telling us."

"We could just guess."

"Don't mess with the spells," said Dipper. "We're looking for something small enough to fit in the bag the vampires wear."

"There's glitter. You could put some inside the bag. This glue bottle is too big, but if you pour the glue out—"

"Don't pour that."

"This piece of candy would fit ... but it looks too delicious to be a magic spell. Do you think I should taste it?"

"Absolutely not."

"A few inches from the end of this ball of string would fit inside; this thimble would fit ... this entire spool of thread, some of this colored sand, this tiny clay cat."

A Teddy bear sat on the table, with one button eye; the matching eye had been snipped out. Mabel picked it up. "A button would fit. Or these beads. Or a ball bearing. I wonder what these are for?" She dropped a ball bearing into the opening on top of a transparent Christmas ball ornament, rattled it, added another ball bearing and put the crimped metal cover on the ball top. Then came a simmering sound, the ball bearings melted and boiled, a ghostly moan floated throughout the room. Mabel dropped the ball and it rolled under the table, still moaning. Mabel chuckled self-consciously and wiped her fingers on her hips.

"That's it, I'm calling a stop. We'll have to ask Mrs. Balaska after sundown."

"The sun is down," Mabel said.

Out the window, only a rosy-purple bruise on the low horizon showed where the sun had been. Dipper went out on the porch and a nuthatch flew at his face. "Ack! Well, the nuthatches are awake. Mrs. Balaska must be awake, too." They stayed in the house to defend themselves from the nuthatches, but Mrs. Balaska did not come. "I have a bad feeling about this," said Dipper.

They looked through the house, carefully moving aside clutter and peeking into packed closets, inside boots and shoes and planters. They found a flashlight and ran with their hands over their heads to the garden shed, and slammed the door against the nuthatches. None of the gardening supplies had been tampered with. The pile of kitty litter which Stan had poured out and plucked Mrs. Balaska from the day before was still emptied on the dirt floor of the garden shed. They raked through the pile but it was nothing but kitty litter.

Dipper said, "Let's go home, get a bunch of grow lights to stone nuthatches with, and make a complete search."

"But we can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"We have to hold a party!"

Dipper said impatiently, "The party at the park isn't until midnight."

"I know. That's the town party. I mean the labyrinth party. Mrs. Balaska isn't here to do it, so we have to do it for her. We gotta go home and get costumes on." Their costumes were hanging in the Mystery Shack's attic.

"All right," Dipper said. "But keep trying to think of where we might find Mrs. Balaska, in the meantime."

"Maybe she went to get some things for the party, and she'll be back in a little bit."

Dipper shook his head. "I think something's happened to her again."

They went home and changed into their costumes, and returned to the labyrinth on their bikes, Mabel as Maid Marian in a long gown, and Dipper as Robin Hood in brown and forest green. Argyle was waiting for them in Mrs. Balaska's driveway, leaning against Cherry Truck. Mabel took off her bike helmet and put a wreath of flowers on her head; a veil and ribbons covered her hair behind. She danced over to Argyle with one side of her skirt held out daintily between her finger and thumb, to keep her hem out of the dirt.

"Have you two seen anything of Mrs. Balaska?"

"I'm afraid not," said Dipper.

Mabel told Dipper, "Argyle is going to turn into a unicorn and stand over a light in the labyrinth, and be a statue for the party."

"You can't go through with that, Argyle. What if Thatch gets to you? You've got a unicorn face. Thatch could put the bridle on you, cover the light and lead you off."

Mabel insisted, "We have to go through with it, for Mrs. Balaska who isn't here. Her party has to come off perfectly. I'll pass out refreshments, you watch Argyle and protect him."

Mabel went into the house and found the trays of refreshments meant for the party. She set up a couple of TV tables by the entrance gap in the hedge.

Dipper covered lights in the labyrinth to let Argyle walk through. He waited for Argyle to go behind a hedge and get out of his clothes so he could change into a unicorn. Then Dipper covered the lights embedded in gravel in a raised bed, Argyle turned into a unicorn and stood in the display spot, and Dipper uncovered the lights again. He stood around to make sure Thatch wouldn't come and steal Argyle—though he didn't know what he would do if Thatch did come. He'd probably keep on shining grow lights on Argyle so that he'd stay stone, and Thatch couldn't take him away. Dipper kept a pile of grow lights nearby.

Dipper heard tourists screaming—not an uncommon sound in Gravity Falls. He couldn't see over the hedges to see what was going on, but he heard someone say apprehensively, "What is that?"

Someone else shrieked, "Bat!" and Dipper sought the skies for Angus on Summerween patrol. He did not see Angus, and wondered if the tourists were responding to something meant as a spooky Summerween decoration in the maze. Some of the screams could be interpreted as more or less delighted. The mystery resolved itself as a nuthatch landed and darted about near Dipper's pile of spare grow lights, petrifying itself. There were no bats, only flocks of bloodthirsty piggy nuthatches.

Dipper kicked the stone nuthatch out of range of the lights. It shook out its feathers with a sound like the rapid shuffling of a deck of cards, and made for Dipper with its stabby bill. "Hey, augh, I just did you a favor!" Dipper grabbed a light and stoned the nuthatch again.

"Hey, all set?" Maid Mabel Marian leaned around a hedge corner to peek into Argyle's display area.

Dipper gestured vaguely at unicorn-statue Argyle. "We're good, I guess."

Mabel took a glue stick out of a shiny pink pouch on the belt of her gown, smeared glitter glue all up and down Argyle's horn, and rushed back to take care of customers.

Children wandered in and pleaded to be perched on Argyle's back. Dipper boosted child after child, one or two at a time. They had their turns pretending to ride, and hopped down or Dipper helped them down. They went to explore more of the maze, and came back with their friends. Dipper helped a small butterball of a child, dressed as a daisy, to balance on Argyle's withers, as she seemed inclined to slide off one way or the other.

One of the kids, sucking on a watermelon lollipop, watched a point on the hedge behind Dipper and asked, "How does that face do that?"

"How does what face do what?" Dipper turned to look.

Thatch's ink mouth grinned. "Magic." The pumpkin hung near the top of the hedge, in a net of fresh sisal baling twine, with twisted-together strands of twine disappearing over the wall.

Dipper swooped the butterball daisy off of Argyle's back and set her on the ground. "Time's up, there you go." He covered the light underneath Argyle with his Robin Hood cap. "Wake up, Argyle."

Dipper grabbed the net, the scratchy baling twine rubbed his fingers raw, but he couldn't get a good hold. Thatch kept bobbing it along from the other side. Argyle shook the stone off, and some child cried, "A real pony!"

Dipper said to Argyle, "See if you're strong enough to break straight through this hedge."

Argyle lunged for the hedge, bulled his head through, his shoulders and most of his barrel followed, and he struggled, halfway through.

"Don't run away, pony," a child said coaxingly, while Dipper ran to see what he could see. They had kept two walls of hedge between Argyle and the outside of the labyrinth, in case of just such a move on Thatch's part. But where Dipper wanted to turn left, there was no opening. He would have to make a long detour, and by then Thatch would be gone. Dipper returned to see if Argyle had broken all the way through the hedge, and indeed there was a unicorn-sized hole in the wall. Argyle plunged back through it, his eyes glowing deep pink, his fangs bared. He snorted and growled like a fantasy dragon.

Some children screamed, one said, "Whoa, cool," and a few whose costumes included duct taped cardboard swords bravely smacked Argyle's flank. The little child Dipper had taken so abruptly off of Argyle's back stood crying in the middle of the mayhem.

In a rough voice Argyle said, "He got away."

Dipper said, "Don't worry about it, man. He was just trying to get to us, and he got to us. He didn't put himself in a position to be caught. We had to try while his head was in reach. If you'd chased him very far, he would have turned you to stone, so I'm glad you didn't catch up with him."

Argyle champed his jaws; then his eyes softened, and he lowered his head.

Tears still damp on her cheeks, the daisy-costume child reached for Argyle. "I want to pet the real unicorn!"

The other kids swarmed Dipper, whom they perceived as in charge of the unicorn-pony.

"Can I give him some candy?"

"Can I feed him grass?"

"Can I feed him slices of my Jack O'Melon?"

"Can I braid his mane and tail?"

"Can he bite me with his vampire fangs and turn me into a real vampire?"

"Uh ... we're gonna need a parental permission slip for that one." Dipper arranged the kids in a sort of line, though some milled around on the platform, patting and scratching Argyle and braiding his tail. Argyle obligingly ate handfuls of Summerween treats. Some children who ran out of things to feed him ran back to the entrance for more, and got into line again.

"I've never been so full of sugar in my entire unlife," said Argyle.

"Sorry," said Dipper. "You'll just have to keep eating. The kids'll cry if I turn their pony back into stone."

The party wound down gradually. The last small child left playing with Argyle's mane was pulled bodily away by her parents, and Argyle shook from head to tail, and stamped his feet. "So stiff," he said. "I didn't know where all the little toes were, so I had to stand still. That's a lot easier when you're stone." He stuck out his tongue. "I need some water. And then some blood."

He stepped off the raised garden bed and Dipper retrieved his Robin Hood cap. They met Mabel at the maze entrance. She had brought a fedora, so that Argyle could dress up as a film noir private eye from the 1940s.

Dipper said, "I have to meet Angus at the Mystery Shack. Why don't you two go to the town party and enjoy yourselves. I'd feel better about celebrating if we put in some kind of effort to find Caesar. But we don't have any plan, not until we find Mrs. Balaska, or get some other clue. I doubt Thatch brought Caesar near the labyrinth."

"Night like this," said Argyle, "with everyone running around in groups, Thatch has hidden Dad someplace and is leaving him there until tomorrow night."

Mabel said to Dipper, "We'll only go to the party if you promise to keep your costume on and stop by later—I want people to see our costumes together. We'll look around some more in Mrs. Balaska's house to see if Argyle's power to see in the dark can find her, then we'll head over to the park."

The Mystery Shack was dark when Dipper got there. Stan had spent the early evening withholding candy from trick-or-treaters, but Dipper knew the Grunkles had planned on going to the diner, then to the town party.

Dipper found the big plastic bowl of candy on the hall stairs and sat on a step to snack on some. Something thudded against the outside of the porch door. The noise repeated rhythmically, and Dipper understood it to be a knock. He hadn't heard Cherry Car's engine, so it wasn't Angus. "Hang on," he called to whomever was on the other side of the door; he rose slowly and crossed the floor with his arm around the bowl of candy.

The dull knocking sounded again, and the door handle rattled. "You're kind of late for candy. Everyone's at the party by now." Dipper opened the door.

Thatch stood there. "That's right. They are all at the party. And here you are, all alone."


	19. Happy Summerween

********

Dipper tossed aside the plastic bowl; candy rolled and skittered across the floor. He leaned into Thatch's personal space. "What are you doing here?"

Thatch appeared undisturbed by Dipper thrusting his chin right up close to his pumpkin head. "Stick out your hands and close your eyes, and you will get a big surprise."

"Seriously? I'm not doing that."

"Fine." Thatch reached into the stuffing inside his shirt. He lifted Dipper's Robin Hood cap with one glove, and deposited something underneath it with the other. "There's your surprise."

The thing under his cap moved. Dipper reached up and felt it—it was muscular and rubbery. "That's a rubber boa."

"It's not rubber. It's a live snake. On your head! Aren't you scared?"

"Nope. And it's called a rubber boa, even though it's a live snake. Learn your local wildlife."

"You aren't scared of snakes?"

"Nobody is afraid of rubber boas." He lifted the rubber boa out of his hair, went outside and let the snake go under the porch. "There you go, little guy." Dipper looked up and saw Caesar, solid stone, standing on the gravel. He was wearing the bridle. Dipper rushed to him and snatched up a rein.

Thatch hopped to the gravel and took hold of the rein just above Dipper's hand. "This vampire horse is afraid of rubber boas," Thatch insisted. "I could feel it when he came up to the snake lying in the path."

"He was probably afraid he would step on it and hurt it."

"I have one of those magic lights on his back," said Thatch. "I'm going to take it off of him now. Let go of the rein."

Dipper remembered how Caesar had acted when Mabel and Thatch were struggling with each other for control, and gave up the rein. He made a quick search of his costume for grow lights, and found that his costume had no pockets.

"I have something else here. What do you think of this?" Thatch took something from across Caesar's withers. "It's ..." he opened up the folds, held it up in both gloves and displayed it for Dipper. "Your boyfriend's leather jacket."

"Where did you get that?"

"Aah. Much better." Thatch handed Dipper Angus's leather jacket, took a light stick off of Caesar's back and tossed it from glove to glove. "He put his clothes down on a rock when he shapeshifted into that bat thing, and I picked his jacket up during daylight. In its place I left a light to keep him frozen in stone—he won't be waking up tonight. And I can wake him up whenever I want to. I'll wait until he's certain to be really hungry. I'll be feeding on his fear for a long time."

"You're bluffing," said Dipper. "You can't wake him up. The bridle won't fit him. He'd tear you apart."

"I don't need to bluff. Fear rolls off a hungry vampire before he's shapeshifted back to flesh. I can remove the light, and put it back, many times before I have to worry about getting away from him, or him getting away from me. And when I'm done with him, after he's woken up many times without eating, then I'll let him go. Maybe I'll wait all the way until next Christmas. Would you like that? A Christmas present for Gravity Falls, of a rampaging giant vampire bat."

"That ... sounds like a typical Christmas for Gravity Falls," said Dipper. "But no, I would not like that at all. I'm going to find Angus before you can do anything like that with him."

"I don't believe you're so sure of that," said the scarecrow. "You have a tasty hot liquid filling of fear right now."

"I'm an anxious person! It means nothing."

Caesar shuddered out of his stone shape and flinched at the glow from the alien light in Thatch's gloves. Thatch put the light in his pocket and hopped astride Caesar's withers. Caesar gave Dipper what seemed to him a desperate look.

"Don't you want me to feed him? At least a little?"

"No. He ate last night. If he gets fed too often, he calms down and thinks rationally. I hate that. Happy Summerween." Thatch grinned and saluted, and Caesar galloped off.

Dipper biked hard and fast to the party at the park. He pushed through milling people, calling for Argyle and Mabel. Stan appeared, dressed as Lazy Susan in a dress and apron. "What's the matter?"

"Angus is missing, the scarecrow has him. I need Argyle and Mabel."

"Do you need our help?" Stan, Ford, and Susan were there together. Susan and Ford were both going as Stan, Susan with an eyepatch and a suit, and Ford with the fez.

Mabel approached. "Hey Robin Hood, where's Angus?"

Before Dipper opened his mouth, she looked into his eyes. "What's wrong?"

Argyle showed up right behind Mabel. Dipper told them what had happened. Argyle said, "You mean Thatch found Angus at one of his usual perches and froze him there? Then we can find him. It's not like the scarecrow can move him when he's a stone bat—all that fluff will be solid stone. And Angus only takes off his jacket to turn into the bat. I know where all of his perches are. Don't worry, Susan and Misters Pines. We can get Angus ourselves."

Argyle threw Dipper's bike into the bed of Cherry Truck and they drove back to the Mystery Shack. Mabel picked up her grappling hook and unicorn-riding helmet, and she and Dipper changed into jeans. They also grabbed some walkie-talkies and a couple of lanterns and flashlights. They picked up some of the Summerween candy off the floor where Dipper had dropped it, so they could hunt indefinitely and snack on treats.

They took the truck out to the water tower. "It's a long shot," said Argyle. "We'd know it if Angus had crushed the water tower by turning to stone on top of it. But he starts a lot of nights up there, so we'll check it anyway."

The water tower was intact, including the railings, and the ground around it was empty of an enormous stone bat. After the water tower, Angus's haunts consisted of a series of bluffs, rocks, and outcrops which would be difficult for the humans to climb. "Trust the grappling hook expert," said Mabel.

Argyle halted Cherry Truck on a bumpy dirt path, as close as he could get to the first perch. Mabel set her flower wreath over her unicorn-riding helmet, with the veil draped over the back, and tied the wreath firmly with a wide ribbon under her chinstrap. She took her grappling hook from the bed of the truck. Argyle took off his private eye costume and turned into a unicorn.

"I'm not comfortable with this plan," said Dipper.

"Argyle knows where we're going, and he's a very surefooted steed." Mabel removed a braided bridle from the truck and slid it over Argyle's face.

"I can't believe you let her do this to you," said Dipper to Argyle.

"I don't mind," said Argyle. "She's a very good rider."

"I made the bridle and reins myself," said Mabel. "Hand woven."

Dipper asked, "Are you sure it's safe for her to be riding you around in the dark, and on this rough terrain? Aren't you nearsighted?"

"My right eye is pretty bad. My left eye is fine."

"He runs a little lopsided because of it." Mabel gave Argyle a pat on the shoulder. "He tilts his head, so he can look at more things with his left eye. But we're both used to it."

Mabel mounted up. Dipper handed her a lantern and a walkie-talkie. "When you find Angus, wait for me, and I'll hike up and we'll feed him together. He's only been one night without food, we'll be able to handle him, with Argyle to help." To Argyle he said, "Turn human if Thatch comes for you. He can petrify you if you're human, but he can't use Mr. Grey's bridle unless you're a pony."

"Unicorn," said Argyle.

"Whatever. Anyway, if you even start to feel like you might be petrifying, turn human. If you even hear a rustle in the bushes, turn human."

"Got it."

Dipper waited with the truck until Mabel called him on the walkie-talkie. "Maid Marian to Robin Hood. I repeat: Maid Marian to Robin Hood."

"Go ahead."

"He's not here. Drive up the hill until there's a fork in the road, take the right fork. We'll go through the woods. I'll call you when we search the next perch. Over."

"Roger. And next time, give me a chance to answer before you say, 'I repeat'."

"Okay. Roger. Clear. Or out. Is it out or clear?"

"Clear."

"Clear, then."

The road was only grooves with dry grass in between. Hollows and dips tilted Cherry Truck up and down, and exposed roots made the wheels bounce. In some spots the sides of the ruts had eroded away, and Dipper had a fight to keep the truck on the road.

Mabel checked in after each place where Argyle wanted to look. Their route led gradually uphill. After several stops, she called Dipper and said, "This rock we're coming to is the last one Argyle can think of, so Angus is probably there. Wait for us around the bend in the road."

A little while later she called again: "Maid Marian to Robin Hood."

"Go ahead."

"Can you see me swinging my lantern?"

"Affirmative."

"Can you hike up here?"

"You found Angus?"

"No ... negative. Sorry, bro-bro, we want you to help us look."

Dipper parked the truck and climbed a pricker-bushy path toward a bluff, atop which Mabel was standing and swinging her lantern. Along with the song of crickets Dipper could hear the constant pouring of the falls in the distance. For Angus in bat form the bluff would be just a short hop. Argyle stood on a flat rock at its base. "I've been searching down here, but I haven't gone far. I've looked everywhere I think Angus could have fallen if he was petrified while he was taking off."

Mabel helped Dipper up to Angus's perch with her grappling hook. Far below, the lights of Gravity Falls spread out across the valley. Mabel's gauzy Maid Marian veil was torn and studded with bits of dried grass and leaves. She showed Dipper Angus's neatly folded clothes. "This is everything but his jacket."

At the back of the bluff was a deep, mossy groove, then a sheer cliff crowned with pines. Mabel shot her grappling hook up there and scrambled up using her toes. She called back down, "The edge is crumbly and slippery and has lots of pine needles. Good thing I have my hook on a tree trunk. I don't see Angus yet. View is gorgeous, though."

"Please come down."

"I don't see him, anyway." Mabel unhooked the grapple and climbed down, supported by a length of rope doubled around a tree trunk.

Dipper took a long sigh of relief when Mabel was back on the flat bluff. They walked edge to edge, but there was not much to see, and no patch of weeds large enough for Angus to be hidden behind. Dawn was coming: the shrubbery was turning from black to grey-green, the rock outcropping had a pale outline on the east edge, and the lights down in town were fading. Argyle got his clothes out of the truck and turned human again, and they headed back to the Mystery Shack.

Stan was awake, having evidently been out all night, as he still wore one of Susan's dresses. "Did you find your bat?"

"No. We came back to get some sleep," said Dipper. "Argyle's turning to stone out on the lawn."

Stan said, "I'd better go throw a tarp over him so I can charge people to look at him. No, wait, I've got a better idea." He snapped his fingers. "What's the name of an animal that turns people to stone? "

"Cockatrice," Dipper said blearily. "Or basilisk." He accepted a cup of coffee from Stan, gulped most of it, left the rest on the counter, shuffled into the living room and sank into the armchair. Mabel rested her head on Waddles, on the floor.

A few hours later they staggered up, splashed some water on their faces, took a thermos of strong coffee and a plastic jack o'melon full of Summerween candy, and went out to Cherry Truck.

A small group of tourists had gathered outside. Argyle had a plywood sign propped up against him: "If Only he'd had BASILISK PROTECTION."

Ford had rendered a gorgeous, terrifying, scaly dragon-salamander creature on cardstock stapled to the plywood. Stan had moved a rack of sunglasses onto the lawn, and labeled it "Basilisk Protection (The Mystery Shack is Not Responsible for Failure of Basilisk Protection)."

Basilisk Protection cost $95. Mabel produced a gel pen from her pocket and added a note to the sign: "Add cockatrice protection for just $50 more!" She drew a few nested hearts on the back of Argyle's stone hand, and one on a lens of his stone glasses, and would have continued, but Dipper asked her to stop adding graffiti to the vampire.

Mabel jumped into the truck with Dipper. He drove as close as he could get to where they had found Angus's clothes the night before. They climbed, using Mabel's grappling hook, to Angus's flat perch on the stone bluff. The area above Gravity Falls seemed bigger in daylight. Somehow Dipper had thought they'd run across Angus as soon as they had any light to see by, but all the shadows that had been there at night still obscured the gaps among shrubs and in groves of trees. The darkness was no longer black, but it didn't make it any easier to see inside the shadowy places from a distance. Mabel picked a weedy yellow flower out of a crack in the stone and tucked it in her overall strap, and they climbed down again.

"How could Thatch steal away someone as big as Angus?" said Mabel. "He must be around here somewhere, with a light on him—and now the sun on him, too. Argyle missed him last night, but that could be because we warned him to be careful of Thatch, and he didn't look as closely as he could have."

Dipper and Mabel began a careful spiral out from the bluff. They examined every large, smooth stone in case it might be Angus in a huddle. They took breaks in the shade of groves of trees, after they had determined Angus was not there, and continued their search in the tawny, sun-baked grass. They walked around a crowd of chokecherries with leaves nearly down to the ground, and at one end came to a shady green tunnel made of broken branches and crushed leaves, leading to a sunlit clearing. "Let's see if he's in there," said Dipper. "This tunnel isn't wide enough for him to have fit through in bat form, but maybe the clearing in the middle is big enough that he landed there."

They entered the clearing through the cool, green tunnel. Mabel looked at the tops of the short, dense trees and the fairly narrow space between them. "Angus couldn't land in here, and he couldn't get in the way we came in. But it looks to me like a lot of this grass has been flattened."

"Maybe a moose beds down here or something ... wait." Dipper had spied a green glow low to the ground, on the undersides of some darker green leaves. "Is that a grow light? Yep, it is." He picked it up and showed it to Mabel.

"He was here," said Mabel. "Thatch lured him into a trap somehow. But how? Angus couldn't land in between these trees. And where is he now?"

Dipper snapped a chokecherry branch, as a small outlet for his frustration, and to let his thoughts organize themselves. "I bet Thatch brought Caesar in here. He knew this clearing was just a little bit small for Angus as a bat. Angus heard his dad's breathing and turned human so he could get in the way we did, to check it out. He didn't think it over. Thatch could have made Caesar stand out here, and hidden himself in the branches, holding the reins. First he covered up the lights, with a blanket, or a tarp or something—and when Angus came to look for his dad, following the sound of his breathing, Thatch pulled the cover off the lights."

"Well, that was a dumb thing for Angus to do," Mabel fretted. "Caesar must be strong enough to pull him as a stone human. He could have taken him just about anywhere. Why would Angus let that happen?"

"I love Angus, but his fangs are sharper than his brains. He's had it up to here—" Dipper leveled his hand beneath his chin "—with Thatch. I gotta admit that in Angus’s place I would probably do the same thing."

They went back out through the long archway in the leaves, and carefully parted grasses until they found what might be marks left by Angus's stone body, dragged behind Caesar. They followed the track, but it was slow going; more than once they were tricked by game trails.

The drag marks that appeared genuine eventually led to a gravel road. Dipper and Mabel crossed the road and tried to pick up the trail on the other side, but found nothing. They crossed back to where the drag marks ended, and traipsed up and down that side of the road, in case the scarecrow had taken Angus out of the grass only to throw them off the trail on the gravel, and had doubled back.

Hiking trails led off of the road into wooded areas. The dirt at the trail mouths was smooth and hard; Mabel and Dipper searched the dust at the edges for signs of Caesar's hoofprints, but found nothing. "That doesn't mean much," said Dipper. "Thatch could have swept his tracks at the mouth of the trail, counting on us not being able to follow every path far enough to find evidence."

They returned to the road and walked slowly up and down, squinting in the harsh sun, looking for crushed grass or grow lights in the ditches. There was no breeze. Dipper said, "Thatch may have stayed on the gravel road, for all we know. We're going to need another way to find Angus."

They went home and found a note on the door, in Stan's handwriting: "Kids—At labyrinth looking for witch." Dipper and Mabel checked on stone Argyle in the yard, left Stan's note in place for him to find as well, and took Cherry Truck to Mrs. Balaska's house.


	20. Some Kind of a Person

********

Dipper and Mabel got out of Cherry Truck at The Witch's Mystery Labyrinth, feeling somewhat surreal and sickly. They hadn't had much sleep, nor enough to drink and eat for such a hot day. Mabel was flushed and dusty, and Dipper felt sticky, parched and scruffy.

Stan, lightly draped in cobwebs, emerged from the shed. "Not there this time," he told the kids. "Soos is searching the hedges."

Lazy Susan, in fuzzy, greyish-beige lynx form, leaned over the edge of the roof. "There's milk and a couple kinds of pie, in the fridge in the house."

Mrs. Balaska's house was slightly cooler than outdoors and smelled musty in the heat. Mabel opened the refrigerator, her eyes widened, and she gasped. Dipper asked, "Now what?"

"Susan!" Mabel shouted. "Can I have the rest of this jewel cake?" Jewel cake was finger-gelatin pieces suspended in non-dairy whipped topping that had been firmed up with more gelatin. Half a nine-inch pie tin was left.

Lazy Susan called down from the roof, "Sure, honey."

"Thank you!"

One of the "real" pies, as Dipper thought of them, was banana meringue, with one slice left. Dipper ate the last slice with his fingers, holding the pan under his chin so he wouldn't lose any crumbs. He walked back out onto the porch while he ate. "Any more ideas where we should look?"

This time Stan was stumped. "He must have taken the witch somewhere else."

Dipper and Mabel thought of their suspicions concerning what had happened to Angus, but there seemed to be no evidence that Thatch had done the same thing to Mrs. Balaska. If he had made Caesar drag Mrs. Balaska away out of her own garden, in the form of a stone statue of a woman, there was no sign to show it—no crushed spots or drag marks. If he had caught her when she was human, he'd done it while she was away from home.

"I'm convinced he caught her when she was an owl," said Stan. "Just not around here."

Dipper groaned. "I asked her not to do that anymore. It makes it much too easy for Thatch."

"It's a habit," said Stan. "Find out where she's always an owl, besides in her own garden, and you'll find out where the scarecrow snatched her from."

"She said she always feeds in owl form," said Dipper.

"Go through her address book," said Stan.

Lazy Susan found the address book in an old roll-top desk. Mabel and Dipper split the list of local addresses. She set out for downtown in Cherry Truck, and Dipper searched the outskirts in the Caddy.

The afternoon grew hotter. Dipper went door to door with his half of the list. None of Mrs. Balaska's friends had seen her, but neither had any of them expected to see her, or missed her.

Dipper stepped onto the porch of a two-story house with peeling white paint. He knocked once, and an outburst of deep barking pushed him back to the top step of the porch. "Hang on, I'll come out," said a man's voice.

A man wearing overalls slipped outside. In the instant before the man got the door shut, Dipper saw the dog's enormous teeth and slobbering tongue as it tried to pry the door open wider with its muzzle. The man asked, "Can I help you?"

"Are you Mr. Lodgepole? I'm wondering if you saw Mrs. Balaska last night."

"Well, no, I didn't."

"I'm afraid she's missing. We have reason to believe someone might have kidnapped her. Someone who has something against—er—"

"Witches? Vampires?"

Dipper relaxed a little. "Vampires."

"It's odd that she didn't come by last night," said Mr. Lodgepole. "I leave a second story window open just far enough for her to fit inside, and I asked her to use that, so she won't wake up Petunia. Petunia's not fond of vampires."

"Mrs. Balaska comes in your second-story window?"

"Yes, it's easy for her, you know, because she can fly, and of course I only leave the window open a couple of inches, just enough for her to get in."

"In owl form."

"Of course, since she flies up there."

Dipper let out a disgusted sigh. "I warned her this would happen! Would it be a problem if I took a look around the outside of your house?"

Mr. Lodgepole helped him search. The windows on the second floor were inset, with the roof sloping down underneath them, so Mr. Lodgepole went upstairs to look out at the gutters. Dipper checked the shrubs all along one side of the house, Petunia following him from window to window and snarling, slapping her monstrous paws against the windows. Her claws squeaked on the glass.

They finally found Mrs. Balaska's clothes neatly folded under a bush, her shawl draped over a branch.

Dipper thanked Mr. Lodgepole for his help and met Mabel on the porch, back at Mrs. Balaska's house. Mabel saw him carrying the shawl, and her face fell.

"I hate dead ends," said Dipper. "And I know I should be worried about Mrs. Balaska, but I'm really worried about Angus. I want that spell, whatever it is. I don't know what the plan should be anymore. We can't talk to Argyle until the sun goes down." Dipper dragged his palm down over his sweaty face. "I need a nap."

"That is a plan." Mabel pinched a bit of the front of her T-shirt into a little tent and fluttered it, fanning herself. "Nap now, talk to Argyle later."

They left the Caddy for Stan and hauled themselves into Cherry Truck and motored back to the Mystery Shack.

Mabel gave the petrified Argyle a hug on the way in by the hall porch. Dipper went around to the kitchen door and grabbed a Pitt Cola on his way upstairs. He sank into bed and sipped his soda. In a minute he heard Mabel running up the steps. "Dipper—look at this." She held out a piece of paper with raggedly torn edges. "I found this outside on the porch door."

It was a note written in permanent marker: "want the unicorn. will trade you the bat. You will never find the bat. If you don't give me the unicorn I WILL let the bat rampage at the end of summer. so bring me the unicorn in the woods tomorrow night."

Mabel wrung her hands. "Argyle will want to do it."

"No. There's no need to make a deal with that scarecrow. I can find Angus on my own. Why turn over one brother to get the other? Why play along?"

"If only we had something else Thatch wanted," said Mabel. "Why does he think he has to have our vampires all the time? Some foods are really delicious. What if we could get Thatch off of fear and onto something else, like spaghetti?"

"Ooh, yeah, or something amazing like Lazy Susan's White Rabbit Chili."

"Maybe Thatch just wants love."

"He does not want love. He wants to eat fear."

"He seems to really like vampire fear." Mabel shuddered. "Poor vampires. Maybe if we had a really mean vampire, Thatch could ride them for a while. But only a short while. Nobody deserves to be ridden around and used like that and not fed enough."

"Yeah, it'd make a mean vampire even meaner," said Dipper.

"But we don't have any mean vampires. We're lucky like that. Actually, I can't think of any vampires at all, besides Argyle, Angus, Caesar, and Mrs. Balaska."

"Didn't you meet up with one ... oh, nope. I'm thinking of the rock beast."

"Yeah, it only looked like a vampire. Like, a turned to stone vampire. Except it was always stone."

"I can't get even a little sleep while I'm thinking about this stupid note. And now I really want White Rabbit Chili." The dish was a Pines family favorite: white chili made with white beans and snowshoe hare meat. It caused Dipper to experience conflict over his desire to imitate Grunkle Ford in all things, because Dipper was a white chili purist, and Ford put hot sauce in his White Rabbit Chili, ruining the color.

"Only Lazy Susan could get me to eat something that cute," said Mabel. She flopped on her back, arms spread out on her bed.

"You eat cute things all the time."

"I mean something that cute before it was in chili. Two, four ... I have six spiders living on my slope of the ceiling. How many do you have?"

"None."

Mabel propped herself on one side with her elbow. "You're not even looking."

"I know I don't have any spiders, because I lie awake at night and bother them with a flashlight until they move over to your side."

Mabel flopped onto her back again. "Well, the little darlings are welcome to live above my bed."

Soos called up the stairs, "Dudes! Mabel and Dipper, are you up here?"

"Yeah," Dipper yelled. "Come on up."

"Excellent news, dudes. Guess who I found." Soos had both hands behind his back.

Dipper perked up. "You found Mrs. Balaska? That's amazing, where was she? How did you find her?"

Soos held Mrs. Balaska, in little stone owl form, up on one palm. "I achieved this success by using detective work. I put on my thinking cap. I started with wondering, could the scarecrow have thrown Mrs. Balaska away, where no one would ever find her? Of course, he could not do that. It would prevent him from ever getting to her again, and scarecrow dude likes vampires too much to put them where even he cannot reach them."

"True," said Dipper.

Soos said, "From what everyone says who's met Thatch in person, he sounds like someone who has tendencies to be both smug and mean."

"He stopped by the labyrinth to mock me and Argyle, during the Summerween party," Dipper affirmed.

"Stan told me how he found Mrs. Balaska so quickly the first time, in the bag of kitty litter. That might have made Thatch very put out. It made him look like he's not good at picking hiding places. I thought, and by now my thinking cap was steaming, that this time Thatch would place her where no one but his own self would ever find her, but very close to where the Pines family is almost every day, for maximum irony. So, I checked the roof at Greasy's Diner. She was not there."

"That's a good detective work, though," said Dipper, "Where was she, after all?"

"Here. At the Mystery Shack. I thought that Thatch could have climbed up onto the roof, put the owl behind the sign—to keep her from rolling down— and covered her with some weeds, which are scattered about on the roof, so we are used to seeing them. He could have then departed, free to return at any time to attempt to get fear from her, or to release her on a tiny feathered rampage. I climbed up on the roof and I looked, and there she was, for someone had indeed put here there. I suspect the scarecrow, as previously stated."

Stan called up the stairs. "You kids want to go to the diner with me and Ford?"

Dipper asked, "You want to come along, Soos?"

"I better make sure Mrs. Balaska has a couple of her blood donationers nearby when she wakes up. With Thatch able to pop up anywhere, it's not safe to leave her alone. Catch you dudes at her house later, after sunset."

Dipper brought Thatch's note with him to Greasy's to discuss while sitting at the counter. "Mrs. Balaska isn't awake yet, so we don't know what kind of spell she made, but we might be able to start a plan without all of the information."

"That scarecrow is stuffed with straw, isn't it?" said Stan. "Straw burns."

"I'm not comfortable with that thought," said Mabel.

"You don't have to watch, honey," said Stan.

"I'm pretty sure Thatch counts as some kind of a person," said Dipper. "Much as I hate to admit it, we should probably not light him on fire. And that's just as well, because for all we know, the enchanted straw might not even burn."

Ford said, "In addition, we must be careful with what we do to Thatch when we don't know where Caesar and Angus are. We can't leave them in stone form, hidden somewhere, without the scarecrow to lead us to them."

"You could go ahead and trade the unicorn, to get the bat," said Stan. "Give the scarecrow what it thinks it wants."

"No," said Mabel, "we can't do that. Argyle will totally want to do that, to sacrifice himself for his brother, and we have to stop him from doing it."

"But the bat has been lost longer," said Stan. "He's hungrier than the unicorn will be. Feed your boyfriend up good, let him go—but give him some kind of advantage over the scarecrow. Something tricky."

Dipper said, "This could be a good idea, Mabel."

Mabel frowned at her salad plate, on which a radish remained. "You only think so because your boyfriend is the one who gets saved."

"The idea is to save all of them. Well—both of them. We have to figure out something else for Caesar. But turning Argyle over, with an advantage, gets Angus home safe. In the meantime, any chance we get to rescue Caesar, we'll have to take."

Lazy Susan leaned on the kitchen side of the counter and said, "He won't want to come home. He'll want to help. The plan should be to let Caesar stay with the scarecrow until Angus is found. Caesar will probably try to do it all without eating. He'll be too hungry to have the sense to know how hungry he is. So we just need to feed him without letting the scarecrow find out about it."

Dipper objected, "But if we have a chance like that, we might as well just rescue him. If we give Argyle over to Thatch—" Mabel made a whimper of protest "—then there'll have to be some time that Thatch will ride Argyle instead of Caesar, and he'll need the bridle for Argyle. Maybe we can find Caesar and save him during that time. If only we had some clue where Thatch likes to petrify him."

"It probably keeps changing," Mabel said doubtfully. "We haven't had a clue yet."

Dipper said, "I bet we could lure Thatch into putting Caesar someplace where we can find him."

Susan said, "I know Caesar pretty well. If we can get the scarecrow away from him for a little while, I can talk to him. If you try to rescue him before both of his boys are safe, he'll only refuse to be rescued."

Dipper recalled, with a chill, Caesar's teeth on his skin. "Whatever you know about him, he's not the same guy you know. Not when he's as hungry as he is now."

"Nonsense," said Susan. "The problem is that I need a way to talk to him, and we need a way to make the scarecrow leave him alone so I can do that."

"But without the bridle he might really attack you," said Dipper.

"I'm strong," said Susan. "Not quite as strong as Caesar, but I can hold my own. I can manage Caesar, and after he's had enough to eat, anyone will be safe with him."

"I have faith in Susan's lycanthropic strength," said Ford.

"I can't allow it," said Stan, siding with Dipper. "Too risky for you, Susan."

"All right, I'll have someone else big and strong with me, just in case. Dan?" Susan called out toward one of the booths "Come and have some coconut cream pie."

Dan grumbled from the booth, "Whipped cream or meringue?"

"Whipped cream, you old logger. I know what you like."

Manly Dan traipsed across the tile floor, making glasses rattle on the rack behind the cash register. He sat down; the steel diner stool creaked and the metallic vinyl seat cover burst a seam, and the condiments in the rack shuddered and clinked. He stuck a fork into his pie.

Dipper tipped his head back to look up at Manly Dan's hairy face. "No offense, Manly Dan, I'm certain you're easily strong enough to feed Caesar if we find him. It's just that if we do find him, saving him is going to potentially call for, uh, considerable skills in sneakiness."

Manly Dan thundered, "I'm sneaky. I am one with the forest. Silent. Like a wisp of fog made out of wildlife, I drift into the timber and I chop most of it down." He made a terrifying sidewise cutting motion. The draft from his hand blew Mabel's napkin into her face. He took another bite of his pie. "But I don't have to do that. I can melt into the trees, a spirit of the pine woodland, like a bull moose, or a chigger."

Dipper thought of how elusive the Corduroy kids could be and observed how scary Manly Dan was, and decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

The Pines family, Manly Dan, and Lazy Susan sketched out a plan that didn't depend on Mrs. Balaska's spell, whatever it might be, and satisfied Stan as to Lazy Susan's safety.

"It sounds awfully risky for Argyle," sighed Mabel.

"It might be," Dipper admitted.

"He'll still want to do it," she said.

Stan and Ford left the kids at The Witch's Mystery Labyrinth. Mabel asked Stan to tell Argyle where they were, as soon as he woke up on the Mystery Shack lawn.

Dipper and Mabel waited on the porch. The sun was long down when Soos brought Mrs. Balaska home in his pickup. She was in owl form. "Just give me a moment to get human and get dressed, and I'll give you that spell. Thank you very much for your help, Soos."

Soos, driving out, passed Argyle pulling up in Cherry Truck. Mabel threw her arms around Argyle. "I'm sorry!"

"For what?"

Dipper showed him Thatch's note. "She said you would volunteer."

"That's not why I'm sorry," said Mabel. "I'm sorry you're going to sacrifice yourself for Angus, and we don't have a perfect plan."

"I'll trade myself," Argyle said immediately, once he had read the note.

"I knew it," said Mabel.

"I'll find a way to escape. And if I don't, you can figure out a way to save me later, if you miss me."

Mabel made a dismayed sound and swatted him on the chest.

"We do have at least part of a plan," said Dipper.

Mrs. Balaska shuffled down into the yard. "Here are your spell components, children." She held out a spool of thread and a loose coat button. "Come here, Argyle." He stood obediently in front of her, and she opened the drawstring on the bag of consecrated ground he wore around his neck, and put the button inside.

"It's not just a button," explained Mrs. Balaska. "It's a Teddy bear's eye. We're going to keep an eye on Argyle, with this button inside the earth pouch. You unspool a bit of thread, wind the end around your finger, and it will help you point in the direction of the button. Once you get the direction, then pull the thread; it will stop depending on how close the button is. A long thread means farther away. If you pull and it stops very soon, then the button is close by."

Argyle picked out some easy hiding places and Dipper and Mabel practiced finding him with the thread. Mabel cheered up considerably when she saw how it worked. "This is amazing! Thanks, Mrs. Balaska."

“My pleasure.”


	21. A New Use for a Hide Scraper

********

Argyle took Mabel and Dipper home in Cherry Truck, then went into town to drink a lot of blood so he would be ready to go without it for some time.

Dipper started right out again in Stan's car, to go to Cherry Farm. Mabel stayed home to dig through every closet and cupboard in the Mystery Shack to find the perfect material for a cloth bag.

"Grunkle Stan, can I cut up your grey suede sport jacket?"

"I have a grey suede sport jacket?"

Mabel displayed it.

"I forgot all about that thing. Let me put it on." Stan looked at himself in the mirror. "I used to look good in this. It's a little tighter than it used to be."

"I like you better in your suit," said Mabel.

Stan looked at himself a moment longer. He took the jacket off and gave it back to Mabel. "Go ahead and cut it up."

"Thank you! And you still look good!"

"Thanks, kiddo."

Mabel sewed a small bag out of some of the jacket material. She found some grey yarn with black flecks in it among her craft supplies, and rolled it in the dust under some furniture. When she got through sneezing, she tied the dusty yarn to the gather at the top of the suede bag.

Dipper came back. "I got a bushel of sour cherries and put them under a crate on the table in the kitchen. Waddles knows they're there, but I don't think he can get at them."

"You could give him just one. Or two." Mabel showed Dipper the finished bag.

"Oh my gosh, Mabel, this is amazing. It even looks like a stone bag, out of context. It'll be perfect in place."

"I know, right? Help me braid reins." Mabel had tacked a rainbow of six cotton cords to the table in the dining nook. "Braid them in pairs, so it's a triple braid, with six colors." She tacked the ends of a new set to the table so Dipper could work on the second rein.

Dipper was not an expert braider; he had to think about each move. Each rein was to be nine feet long. Mabel braided so fast Dipper couldn't see what she was doing. She slowed down to give him a quick demonstration, then showed him where he'd overlapped the lines wrong, and made him back up and start over.

Dipper said, "It's going to take some time to find a spot with everything we need, and not too close to the beaten path. Maybe it will take too long."

"The quickest way would be to call Mr. Wentworth," said Mabel. "He knows the woods."

"Oh—of course. Good idea."

Mabel finished her rein and opened a little jar of iridescent glitter dust. She used a dry watercolor brush to lightly coat the cotton braids, and to push extra dust into the creases between the cords. "That's that. Thanks for the help, bro-bro. I'll take over your rein."

Dipper said, "I'm going to the lab to cut up extra lights." But Stan heard him, and yelled at him to go to bed.

"We have a lot to do before the sun goes down tomorrow," Dipper told him.

"Me and Ford already promised to help you tomorrow," said Stan. "Go to bed."

Dipper didn't argue, but he lay restless until Mabel came up, her cheeks and hair lustrous from absent touches with fingers covered in glitter dust. She mumbled a "good night" and fell asleep, and then Dipper fell asleep, too.

At an early breakfast, Ford told Dipper that he'd stayed up to cut grow lights. "I left a pile in the lab. You can drill them." 

Dipper strung lots of small pieces of grow light on a long, thin chain. He and Mabel checked over their supplies and were ready to go by mid-morning.

Mabel biked handily up the mountain with fifty pounds of cherries loaded into her basket. Dipper followed on his own bike. Mabel stopped often to scatter sour cherries on either side of the trail. She crushed them before she scattered them, so they would give off a strong scent.

Mr. Wentworth met them on a steep part of the path, near his house. They left the basket of cherries with the bikes, ducked onto Mr. Wentworth's own narrow trail, and followed his tufted ears through the close, scratchy underbrush.

He brought them to a cliff that rose nine or ten feet above a slightly slanted, flat rock that jutted at only a few feet above ground level. A huge pine tree towered to one side.

"Wow, perfect," said Dipper.

"I thought it was the kind of place you had in mind," said Mr. Wentworth. "Do you have everything you need?"

"Yeah, we've got kind of a plan. Now to get the rock beast to come here," said Dipper.

He and Mabel retraced their path to the bikes. They had broken Mr. Wentworth's trail to fit themselves, on the way to the cliff; now all they had to do was swing aside some supple branches that didn't want to break. As they came into the open by the bikes, Dipper saw the shoulders and antlers of the rock beast.

Dipper made a hushing sound. "Mabel, stop."

The buck raised his head and turned his ears toward them. His stone eyes seemed to see through them. He lowered his head to the basket of cherries again and came up unhurriedly crunching cherry pits, this time focusing unconcernedly away down the path.

"Wow, that was easy," said Dipper. "Now we need to get the bag around his neck. Do you think you can do that?"

"Leave it to me: Mabel, friend to all animals. And rock beasts, which are hopefully a subset of animal."

"Now, remember, they're very shy—"

Mabel pushed ahead of Dipper. She stalked toward the bikes, pressing leaves under her shoes with barely a sound. Then: "Here, deer! Don't be shy!"

"That's not how shyness works," said Dipper. He stepped out onto the path behind her.

The rock beast had shied away from Mabel, but he stayed on the path, watching her. Mabel shook the bushel basket and crushed more cherries between her fingers. "Dipper, you take that side and help me carry the cherries. Rock beast, buddy, if you want more of these, you gotta come with us!"

The rock beast stood still for a long time. Dipper and Mabel did not move, either. The buck lowered his head and snuffled at the trail, seemingly determined to find more cherries on the ground, but he had eaten all the ones Mabel had dropped. He snuffled and licked a cherry-juicy spot in the dirt, raised his head and watched Mabel. Mabel crushed another cherry between her fingers, and the rock beast gave in and followed her.

Dipper carried the coiled chain of grow lights over his shoulder. He and Mabel held the bushel basket between them, Dipper using one hand for bending and breaking branches to widen the trail so they could walk side by side, and Mabel chirping and snapping her fingers to the rock beast. She refused to drop any sour cherries, making him eat them out of the basket or her hand. At last he kept his head right between the twins, over the basket, helping himself, slowing his steps to chew, and catching up again to take another mouthful.

Mabel lured the rock beast onto the flat rock while Dipper and Mr. Wentworth hung the chain of alien lights from the branches of the giant pine tree, so the glow would fall on the rock beast. When they were through, Mr. Wentworth checked that Dipper and Mabel didn't need anything else, then climbed the bottom third of the pine in a few leaps, reached the top of the cliff and disappeared.

Mabel regarded the rock beast. "Should we scrub the lichen off of him?"

"No, leave it on him. See if you can get him to lie down."

Mabel flourished something from her pocket. "I'll use a rock beast massage tool." In an aside to Dipper, as if the rock beast should not be enlightened, Mabel explained, "It's an ancient hide scraper made out of chipped stone. Grunkle Ford said I could have it."

Mabel made kissing sounds at the buck, and he stayed still as she reached slowly for his shoulder. She scritched and scraped and the rock beast leaned into it little by little. Mabel scritched down the side of the buck's front leg and behind his knee, and he bent his knees and lay down on the flat rock. Mabel went on scratching his side while Dipper picked up the ends of light chain that trailed to the ground from the pine branches above, and wreathed them among the rock beast's antlers.

"He looks great," said Dipper. "Let's hope he doesn't snore."

"Hey, beast." Mabel shot the buck a couple of finger guns. "You rock! Get it?"

The rock beast slouched on one shoulder, curved his neck and relaxed with his muzzle over the other shoulder. He closed his eyes.

********

In the deep of night, Dipper, Mabel, and Argyle in unicorn form walked up the trail the scarecrow had repeatedly ridden on Caesar. The path climbed steeply, then leveled off. After some time trudging along on the packed earth and lumpy roots they heard Thatch calling them, and made their way off the main trail into a clearing thick with layers of dead leaves and wound about with brambles.

Thatch was waiting for them. The light from Dipper's lantern glistened on shiny straw around the scarecrow's cuffs and collar. Caesar was nowhere to be seen. "Make the unicorn turn to stone," commanded Thatch.

"We will if you want us to," Dipper said. "But we can show you something better than our unicorn." He slapped Argyle on the shoulder.

"What do you mean?"

"We believe you'll like this other thing so much, you won't need this vampire anymore."

"Is it ... a larger vampire unicorn?"

"Something like it."

"I'll be riding this one," said Thatch, "in case I don't like what you have to show me." He removed one leather glove and, with the other, pulled Mr. Grey's bridle out of the end of his work-shirt sleeve.

Mabel kissed Argyle on the muzzle and stood out of the way. Argyle stepped toward Thatch, extended his neck and willingly put his face into the headstall.

Thatch hopped onto Argyle's back. "Hey," Dipper observed, "you have new boots. I mean, new old, used, probably stolen boots. How come?"

"Shut up."

"Hah! I bet Angus fought you. He must have gotten a hold of your old boots. Good for him."

Thatch grumbled.

He made Dipper and Mabel walk far ahead, so they could not grab the bridle. They led the way to the giant pine with the lights woven through its branches. The rock beast lay curled underneath, just as they had left him. From a distance he looked like a series of rounded boulders that only vaguely resembled a deer. His antlers looked whitish-green, and the glittery bits in his smooth hide shimmered.

Thatch said, "Get over on the other side of that big tree."

Dipper went. Mabel followed most of the way, then came back around the pine's trunk and approached the flat rock where the buck rested. She stayed on the side farthest from where Thatch had halted Argyle, and this seemed to satisfy the scarecrow. Thatch dismounted well outside the glow from the tree and put a grow light on Argyle's back. Argyle did not so much as twitch an ear as he turned to stone. Thatch took off the bridle and shuffled closer to the rock beast. "What is this?"

"Vampire, obviously," said Dipper.

"Is it another friend of yours?"

"Not exactly," said Dipper. "We kind of found him here, petrified. Somebody else must have put these lights up as decoration, and he got caught."

"How is it that you found this vampire now, when I have the vampire you want?"

Dipper opened his mouth. "Uh ..."

"We've known he was here all along," said Mabel. "We just didn't want to give him to you, because you're a jerk."

"Judging by the growth of lichen," added Dipper, "this vampire has been asleep here for two years."

"Two years?"

"At least that long. Give us Angus, and let us keep Argyle, and we'll let you have this vampire. And any fear he wakes up with."

The scarecrow's permanent-marker outline of a tongue licked his ink line lips. He pointed to Dipper. "You get those lights out of the tree."

Dipper obligingly climbed the lower branches of the pine, getting sticky with sap, and unwound the light chain, dropping it loop by loop to the flat rock. Thatch gathered it up and laid it next to the deer, so the light still shone on him. Mabel began unwinding the trailing end that draped in a figure eight among the rock beast's antler points.

"Now get out of my way while I put the bridle on him."

Dipper stayed off of the flat rock, but Mabel hovered near the rock beast's head, fussing with a last piece of chain woven in tight rings around two or three antler tines. "I'll get this in a second," she said. Thatch ignored her and held the bridle to the rock beast's face. The bridle would not fit over the antlers, and a cheekpiece needed to be unfastened so the crownpiece could go across behind the buck's ears. Thatch's thick, stiff glove-fingers were a hindrance in performing this task.

"Oh, let me help you with that," said Mabel. She grabbed the cheekpiece and unknotted it from the crownpiece.

Thatch watched her with narrowed eyes. "I can get it myself. We're in no hurry." He kept tight hold of one rein.

"Oops," said Mabel. "Kinda got this rein caught in the light string."

"Give me the whole thing." Thatch pulled on his side of the bridle. Mabel quickly lifted the chain and the rein—which were suddenly untangled from each other—off of the rock beast's antler tines and sweetly handed them over to Thatch.

"Now you both get out of the way," he said. "I'm going to kick these lights off the side of the rock, and wake him up."

At that moment, before Thatch could kick the lights away, while the rock beast's side was still glowing from the touch of grow lights, the rock beast flicked an ear. Dipper saw it, but Thatch didn't seem to notice it. The scarecrow positioned himself next to the buck's shoulder and pushed the chain of lights aside with the side of his boot, but the lights were still illuminating the rock beast's flank and rear leg.

The rock beast lifted his head and gave his ears a back and forth movement, and his antlers a slow shake. He rose to his hooves.

"What sort of vampire is this?" Thatch began clumsily undoing the bridle. "I'll take the unicorn, after all. You can keep ... whatever this is." He fumbled and muttered, and had to coax the rock beast to lift his head when he put his muzzle down and snuffed at the flat outcrop. Thatch succeeded in taking the bridle off, and stuffed it into his shirt.

Stan leapt from the top of the cliff and knocked Thatch down, landing on the scarecrow's well-stuffed chest. The rock beast startled, jumped off the flat rock, and looked back over his shoulder at the scuffle.

Thatch pushed Stan off and stood up on his boots. Stan punched the scarecrow in the pumpkin face. Thatch reeled, but stayed upright, spiraling on his pants. Stan brandished a set of shears, snipped the twine net from the shirt collar, grabbed a fistful of net, swung the pumpkin over his head and made a hammer throw into a patch of weeds. The pumpkin came to rest and spun to face Thatch's body, which climbed down off the rock and went to get his head. He made a disgusted sound, stuck his head back on, pulled some twine through a buttoned fold of his collar and quickly tied it in a sloppy bow. He rotated the head to line up with his shirt buttons, and saw Ford taking the piece of grow light from Argyle's withers.

"Hey!" Thatch rushed Argyle before he could come completely un-stoned. Stan followed the scarecrow and grabbed his shirttails. Ford took hold of Thatch's pants, but Thatch ignored him, climbed to Argyle's head and put the bridle on while he was clinging with his pant legs to Argyle's neck. Ford clambered onto Argyle's back and pulled at Thatch's waist, but Thatch got the bridle on, took a rein in each glove, and Argyle reared and slipped Ford off over his tail. Stan reached for a rein, but Argyle side-stepped and turned his rump toward Stan, and jumped over Ford. The scarecrow rode Argyle at a run back along the narrow, rough trail they had come on.

Mabel ran after them, and cried out, "Argyle!" in a voice that chilled Dipper's heart.

He went to her, put an arm around her shoulders, and spoke low, in case the scarecrow had only pretended to ride away. "Did you make the switch?"

Mabel showed him a rein coiled on her palm.

"That's an original? I can't tell them apart."

"That's the idea, and this is one of the originals."

"Good job! We got one."

"Poor Argyle."

"Let him do his part." Dipper squeezed her shoulders. "Your scream sounded real."

"It was real. I imagined him never coming back."

"We'll get him back. It's going almost as well as could be expected. We didn't get both reins, but you got something."

"I just hope it helps him," said Mabel.

Stan and Ford came up to them. Stan was rubbing his nose, and Ford was rubbing his arm. "That thing is really strong," he said. "We didn't have to fake it much."

In all the ruckus, the rock beast had hung around and eaten the rest of the cherries. He pawed at the empty basket, rolled it around and tossed it with his antlers. He sought Mabel, and she found a cherry in her pocket. She fed it to him and while he chewed, she removed the fake earth bag from his neck.

The buck swallowed the last sour cherry and licked his stone nose; his stone tongue made a faint, rough sliding sound. He faded into the woods.

********

"I can't sleep until we get Argyle back," said Mabel.

"Yes, you can. Get into your pajamas. I'll bring you some cocoa."

Dipper and Mabel sipped their cocoa, sitting on her bed. He said, "I'll take the mugs."

"No, stay here." Mabel pulled him down into bed with her. Mabel's bed with her in it made a pocket of warmth filled with her sweaty-sweet scent. Dipper pillowed his head on a plush toy, and smoothed Mabel's hair with a carefully flat palm, so he wouldn't catch any tangles with his fingertips.

Dipper slept lightly. Mabel was sound asleep, and it was still dark when Dipper hauled himself up, staggered downstairs, and drove the Caddy out to The Witch's Mystery Labyrinth.

He was unwilling to leave Mr. Grey's rein unattended, and wanted to catch Mrs. Balaska awake. She could give Mr. Grey his rein when he inquired at her house. Dipper thought he would come fully awake on the drive over, but he was still bleary, and weaved up the porch steps. Mrs. Balaska welcomed him. "Sleep in my armchair. Here's an afghan. Make yourself some coffee when you wake up. I won't be up then."

Dipper woke a couple of hours later, this time refreshed, and looked for Mrs. Balaska to make sure she hadn't unwisely turned into an owl. The door to her bedroom was open. She stood in the light from a window, stone, human shape. The holes in the knit of her petrified shawl showed the shiny braid of Mr. Grey's rein. Even if Thatch realized he'd been given a fake rein, he would not be able to steal the real one.


	22. At Night on the Hiking Trail

********

Mabel sat on the Mystery Shack porch, aiming the magic thread at the woods. When it didn't stop unspooling on the first tug, she got up, tied one end to the porch, and walked backward. She bumped her way around some pieces of junk and two or three trees, until the thread would not easily come along. Dipper came up the drive in the Caddy, and Mabel waved, wound up the thread, and ran to him. "I have to go to work today," she told him. "As soon as I'm done, we can go see Argyle. He'll be stone, but at least we'll know where he is, and see that he's okay." She pointed up the mountain, along the line indicated by the thread.

"I don't know ... that's as the crow flies. We don't know how far away he really is, or how long it would take. And if Thatch is sneaking around and sees us, he'll know we can find Argyle, when we couldn't before. We're going up on the main path tonight. That's the plan."

Mabel scowled. She went inside, got dressed for work and biked there. Dipper tried studying, but he thought constantly about Mabel, and closed his books and went to see her.

Outside the front door of the little museum, an exact replica of President Sir Lord Quentin Trembley III, Esq. stood with its finger pointing to the propped-open door, with a sign hanging from its wrist:

Free Tours 2 PM and 4 PM

Free Popcorn with a 15 Cent donation

Inside, Mabel greeted Dipper with a flicker of a smile.

Dipper said, "That is an awesome wax figure of President Trembley."

"It's actually him," Mabel said without her usual enthusiasm.

Dipper craned to look back out the door. "That's amazing. He looks exactly like a wax figure." He waved. "Hey, Mr. President."

"Either he blinks when I blink," said Mabel, "or he never blinks."

Just then the president's facade broke. "Ow! Stop, stop it I say! It's incredibly difficult to be a wax figure when a woodpecker is looking for grubs up your nose! Begone! Shoo! Avian scoundrel!"

"Here, would you give this to President Wax Figure?" Mabel held out a small white paper bag of popcorn.

"Sure." Dipper dug fifteen cents out of his pocket. "I'll take some, too." He went back outside, turned President Trembley's palm up, and poured some popcorn into it. The woodpecker was distracted from the president's face and pecked madly at the popcorn.

"Thank you, young Roderick."

Dipper sighed, but said only, "You're welcome, Mr. President."

"Have you considered joining the secret service? I could use a good man like you. Someone who could take bullets for me."

"Ah, I'm certain there are other men, better qualified."

"Nonsense! Why, I've had young men working for me who were perfectly able to take bullets, and not one of them was a whit more strapping than you! They all quit, one by one. Seem to think they're above taking bullets. Why, taking bullets for a President is a job you can be proud of."

"Maybe they were afraid."

"What is there to be afraid of? I have many bullets stored on one side of the Presidential Shed, and I wish to have them taken to the other side."

"Maybe they were bored."

"Customers," murmured President Trembley. His eyes glazed over.

Dipper stepped back indoors while a little group of tourists gathered around to admire how lifelike the wax figure was.

"He seems to be having fun," said Dipper.

"He is," said Mabel. "When are we going to get Argyle back?"

"Soon as we can. As soon as he gets near the trail. Don't worry too hard, Mabel."

"I'll try not to."

Dipper ruffled her hair—only a little, since she was dressed so nicely, though in the required silly fashion—and she smoothed it down without any sign of disgruntlement. She didn't smile, but he gave her an encouraging one on the way out, which she didn't seem to notice.

********

That night, hiking the main trail under the lamps, Mabel said, "Give me the thread." She unwound it to the reach of her arms. Dipper helped her pull it out until it stopped. Mabel measured it with her eyes for some time and drooped. "He's medium-far away. I wanted something more specific than that."

They stretched the thread again just before sunup, and Mabel judged Argyle to still be medium-far away.

They slept almost all day. It felt amazing to Dipper to get one long stint of sleeping. Their second night of hiking, Mabel set out cheerfully, and Dipper didn't want to express any doubts. According to the thread, Argyle changed directions relative to them at least three times that night, and varied from far to very far away.

"We should go get him," Mabel decided. "It's been long enough. We've waited long enough."

"He might still be able to get to us on his own," said Dipper. "He's waiting until the scarecrow takes him to wherever Angus is."

"What if that doesn't happen until Argyle is starving? This is the second whole night! How do we know the fake rein is helping him? How do we know he has any control over what happens to him at all?"

Dipper admitted, "We don't. But he knew that going in."

"I don't care. Tomorrow night he'll be starving—he'll be _dangerous_. And if he hurts anybody, you'll be really mad at him. And you already hate him."

Dipper blinked. "I do not—I don't hate him."

Mabel turned side-on to him and folded her arms.

Dipper said, "If Argyle doesn't come to the trail on his own tomorrow night, we'll find him wherever he is the next day, and get him back."

Neither one of them wanted to give up. They hiked through sunup, spent hours searching for any sign of Angus, Argyle, or Caesar by daylight, and got surly as the day grew warmer and they remembered how long ago they had eaten. They went home and slept—Dipper threw himself down sideways on his bed, held one arm up, and Mabel toppled in beside him and tucked his arm over herself. It was a sweaty nap. When they woke it was a little cooler and Dipper's skin felt prickly, a thin film of chill over him where his sweat had dried.

When they came down to the kitchen, Stan said, "Soos brought strawberries from Phyllis Balaska's, for you kids. You can dice those up and make strawberry sodas. There's ice cream in the freezer. And make me one."

Mabel stole strawberry sodas from the vending machine and brought out slightly stale vanilla ice cream from the kitchen freezer. Adding diced strawberries made the staleness disappear.

After supper, Dipper and Mabel went up the trail again. That night was not too warm nor windy, and it seemed as if hiking was as easy as standing still. Dipper saw tree roots in the path coming ahead of time and took long strides over them. Mabel hummed as they walked.

They paused and Dipper held the spool of thread so Mabel could walk backward to the full length it would reach; she stood for some time looking over her shoulder in the direction in which it pointed, then spooled it back up again. She kept it with her as they walked on, and finally exclaimed, "Dipper! Look, I can do it with my own two arms—it keeps getting shorter."

They came to a fallen log, black with age, at the side of the trail. Dipper and Mabel sat on it for a rest. They had been there a little while when animal eyes glowed green in the underbrush across the path. A lynx stepped into the light from a trail lamp, holding her head high so she could carry a basket without dragging it on the ground. She set the basket down and licked her jaws. "Is this a good time for pie?"

"It's a perfect time for pie!" Mabel leapt up and turned back the cloth napkin covering the basket, peeking without showing the contents. "Guess, Dipper."

"Shoo-fly," Dipper answered.

"How did you know?"

"I know what the diner pie flavors were going to be today. She brought the one I would have picked out of them. Thanks, Lazy Susan."

"Sure, honey."

Dipper and Mabel were each on their second gooey slice when they heard scuffling and thudding coming from somewhere out of sight. "Is that them?" Mabel tried the thread again and could pull it to its magical limit with one hand held close to her body. They hurriedly packed the remaining pie in the basket, and Susan took it and disappeared into the shadows. Dipper took shallow breaths so he could hear better. Mabel listened so hard she quivered.

They heard hoofbeats on packed earth—Argyle's frantic pattering and Caesar's thundering.

"He got away," said Mabel. "Caesar is chasing him."

"They're on one of the other trails," said Dipper.

Mabel shouted, "Argyle! Here! Cut through the woods!"

"He'll come this way if he can." Dipper gripped a grow light in his pocket. "I can't see a darned thing from here." The lamps made it impossible to adjust his sight to the shadows in the forest. "I'm getting out of this patch of light and see if I can get Caesar. Mabel, stay on the trail."

Dipper stepped into the dark, shading his eyes with a hand at his temple. With the other hand he held a grow light ready. The hoofbeats had turned to rustling and crackling—Argyle was pushing through the brush, getting closer. Dipper crunched through the undergrowth and pushed branches aside. At last he made out a pale smudge moving through the forest; that was Argyle's silvery-brown coat. Behind Argyle, twigs broke and branches swished and snapped. Caesar's chest was broader than Argyle's and he held his head higher; he widened the same path Argyle had taken.

Dipper and Argyle came to a fallen log at the same time from opposite directions. Argyle wore no bridle, his lips dripped foam, and the ends of a rein streamed from the corners of his mouth. Dipper yelled, "Turn human, quick!"

Argyle answered indistinctly around the rein in his mouth. "He's right behind me!"

"I know! Turn human! Mabel's on the trail, go!"

Argyle leapt the log and Dipper clambered over it going the other way, but he didn't hear Caesar anymore. He paused to listen and heard a thud and Mabel's "Oof! Ow!"

Dipper scrambled back over the log and ran back as quickly as he dared when he couldn't see the ground. He passed Argyle, who hunched, human-shaped, petrified, under a trail lamp. Mabel sprawled on her back in the leaf litter on the other side of the trail. She slowly sat up. Dipper helped her to stand. "Are you all right? What happened?"

"Argyle knocked me over. I went to meet him and we crashed." Mabel had the damp rein in her hand. "He gave me this."

"Real or one of yours?"

"Real," Mabel whispered, with one eye on the dark woods.

"Excellent. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'll have a couple bruises tomorrow, but I'm good. Argyle said Angus is at the falls."

"Where at the falls? Did he say?"

"He didn't have time."

"The scarecrow and Caesar are somewhere close by. Hang back here, okay? Hide the rein."

"You take care of Argyle."

"Sure thing."

"One second." Mabel unzipped the breast pocket on Dipper's jacket and tugged out a few inches of fake rein, the one that she hadn't been able to put on the bridle during the rock beast plan. She patted the pocket to dismiss Dipper, and stood in half-darkness.

Argyle was crouched as if he'd been petrified when he was trying to rise out of his tumble. One arm shielded his eyes. Dipper had not had time to decide his next move before Thatch's voice came out of the forest. "Get out of the way and let me at the vampire."

"No. I don't think so." Dipper held a hand out and up in front of his face to block out the white trail lamp, but he could not see into the blackness beyond.

Thatch said, "Turn off the lights!"

"The lights are locked on, back at the Mystery Shack, and Grunkle Ford is guarding the switch."

"Make the vampire turn flesh again. You'll have to let him wake up sometime."

"But he doesn't have to turn into a unicorn. You'll never make him do it. You won't be able to force him to do it, even when he wakes up. He won't have to wear the bridle."

"The unicorn for the bat, that was the deal. Don't you want the bat? What difference does the unicorn make to you?"

Dipper gestured vigorously at Argyle. "My sister is in love with this knucklehe—" his knuckles rapped hard into the back of Argyle's stone head. Dipper winced. "Ow." He cradled his knuckles and went on in a slower pace and slightly higher pitch, but he kept the righteous indignance in his expression as best he could while his brow was pinched with pain. "He's my sister's boyfriend and my boyfriend's brother. And he told us where to find Angus, so your threats won't work."

Thatch made a scornful sound. "The unicorn knows nothing. You'll never find the bat." He rustled into the lamplight. "The unicorn took something of mine. I need it for the black horse."

Dipper took up a defensive posture over Argyle, but Thatch saw at a glance that the stone vampire did not hold the rein in his mouth or hands. "Where is it?"

Dipper casually folded his arms, using his forefinger to tuck the fake rein deeper into his breast pocket. Thatch slit his eyes at the pocket and lunged. Dipper put up both hands and tried his best to force him back, though he knew Thatch was much stronger. Thatch was lightweight, though, and he did go flying and bump into a lamppost and bounce back up. This time he sprang and nabbed the end of the rein. Dipper trusted the integrity of Mabel's braid, so he closed both fists around it and made a show of fighting as hard as he could to hold onto it. Finally Thatch wrested it out of his hands and stumped off into the woods with it.

Mabel stepped out of the shadows and ran her hand over Argyle's head. There was a rustling of leaves and a scratching on bark, and Lazy Susan climbed down a tree backward. Manly Dan noiselessly appeared.

Dipper said, "I'm glad to see you guys. Was that enough time? Did you find Caesar? did you feed him?"

"Yep!" said Lazy Susan.

"That horse can eat," said Manly Dan, "like a horse. Yeah, we fed him."

"Thank you. Thank you so much."

Mabel came up behind Dipper, linked arms with him, and asked, "Now what?"

"You and Susan go down and get Grunkle Ford to turn off the light. Manly Dan and I'll handle your starving boyfriend."

"Okay." Mabel went back to Argyle and lingered, her hand on his stone hair. "Okay," she repeated more briskly. "Here are his clothes." Each night she and Dipper had spent waiting on the trail, Mabel had brought along a pile of folded clothes and the heavy leather shoes Argyle favored, plus his glasses.

Mabel and Lazy Susan disappeared down the trail. Dipper and Manly Dan stood on either side of Argyle and waited in silence for the lights to go out. After some time it occurred to Dipper to cover his eyes so he'd adjust more easily to the dark when the lamps went out. Manly Dan laid his massive hand on the back of Argyle's neck so the vampire would know someone was there the moment he woke up.

As soon as Argyle had blinked the stone flakes off his eyes, Dipper demanded, "Where is Angus at the falls?"

Argyle opened his mouth, then made a face and brushed the cracking stone off his lips. "I don't know. The scarecrow doesn't know either. All I know is he's at the falls somewhere. Can't talk. I need your blood."

"Oh, yeah. Right."

"Only let me drink for about a minute before you get me to quit."

"Maybe Manly Dan—"

"I just fed a lot of blood to Caesar, even after Lazy Susan took a turn. You go first, boy. When he tries to take too much, if you can't get him to quit, I'll step in. But he's a puny vampire compared to his pa or his bat brother; have a whack at handling him yourself."

Manly Dan stood there with folded arms, watching. Dipper let Argyle drink longer than a minute. Then two. Argyle had taken the bite tentatively, with an apologetic look at Dipper, but now he gripped Dipper's arm in both hands, his eyes were half-closed, and Dipper was feeling uncomfortably like a meal instead of a person. "That's enough, Argyle."

Argyle said, with his mouth full of Dipper's arm, "No, it's not."

"That is enough of my blood for now. Let Manly Dan take a turn."

"I don't drink from him. He's one of Angus's favorites. Calm down and let me eat." Argyle was touching Dipper in a way that would apply vampire magic, if Dipper weren't wearing about half of his extensive collection of protection spells.

He shoved Argyle's face away. "Knock it off, man. That's enough." 

Argyle grunted, put another nick in Dipper's arm and licked at the fresh place. Dipper leaned back and tried to twist his arm free, but Argyle held him tightly around his upper arm and around the waist. Dipper found himself the possessor of a beautiful excuse for punching Argyle in the face.


	23. The Missing Bat

********

Manly Dan held his fist at the ready, in case Argyle needed to be punched a second time, but Argyle came to his senses after one well-placed punch on the nose from Dipper. Argyle's hands were shaking, his eyes glazed. He took a few sips of blood from Manly Dan, then, looking pale and wan and ashamed, said, "I need my glasses."

"And it's getting really weird that you're still naked," said Dipper. "Mabel brought clothes for you."

Argyle pulled on his pants and shrugged on his shirt. "I know we'll be telling Mabel that you had to punch me to get me to stop."

"She'll feel sorry for you, not me, believe me. Are you good now? Mabel went with Lazy Susan to turn off the lights. We can meet them on their way back up."

Manly Dan said goodbye to Argyle and Dipper at a side trail. Argyle seemed twitchy without him. He walked so closely to Dipper that he bumped into him, until Dipper elbowed him to gain some personal space. Argyle rubbed his own upper arms and watched the woods. "Did the spell actually work or did I just meet you guys by chance?"

"Worked perfectly," said Dipper. "The thing to do now is get Angus back before Thatch can send him on a rampage."

"Thatch is bluffing about that. At least, I think he is. I don't think he knows where Angus is, any more than we do. He keeps looking around the falls."

"But if Angus had really gotten away, he'd be home by now."

"I know. He has to be petrified somewhere, and Thatch thinks it's at the falls. I wish I could tell you more."

Mabel called up the trail. "Guys, where are you? Yell so I can find you."

They hallooed, and Mabel ran around a bend to meet them, swinging her lantern. She threw her arms around Argyle's neck, and he put one arm around her in a sideways hug. "Just on the cheek for now, doll."

Mabel kissed him resoundingly on the cheek. "You want a mint?"

"Yes, thank you. And I should admit to you that Dipper had to punch me."

"I'm just glad you're both okay! How did you get away? Did the rein help?"

"Yeah, eventually. I had to figure out how to make it help me. Thatch had me doing whatever he wanted. That nuggle bridle is freaky. I do not want it on my face again."

Mabel patted Argyle's cheek. "What did you do?"

"I tried switching my tail, even when Thatch told me to cut it out. I could do it. That made him mad, but it didn't get me any closer to being loose. But I had found out I could do something to fight, even if it was such a small thing." Argyle sniffed and pushed up his glasses, and Mabel squeezed him. He continued, "I kept on experimenting with it while Thatch rode me around. Pretty soon it seemed like he didn't know where Angus was, and I wasn't going to find out by letting him do whatever he wanted with me. After a couple of days I was sure of it, and I was so hungry I was worried about what I'd do if I got loose and you guys didn't catch me."

Mabel said, "It would have been okay. You would have found some way not to hurt anyone. But we did catch you!"

Argyle pressed Mabel's shoulder. "Yeah. Anyway, I'd made a plan. I closed my left eye. Of course, since I can't see much out of my right eye, and Thatch liked me to move along pretty fast, I stumbled and ran into things. Thatch got disgusted with me, and he ordered me to look where I was going, but I didn't have to. I kept my eye closed. One of the times when I stumbled, I got up off my knees and the bridle was off my face. I guess a tree branch snagged it and pulled it off over my ears. All of a sudden I had control of my body. All I could think about for a minute was blood. Then I remembered what to do, and I grabbed a rein in my mouth, to try and take the bridle with me. Thatch had hold of the bridle, and he pulled against me. I got the rein but not the headstall. I had to get out of reach of any lights he could use on me. Thatch must have hidden Dad close by, because I didn't have to wait long before I heard them behind me."

"You did great!" said Mabel. She dug around in her pocket and in a minute Argyle had a sticker that read _Super Job!_ on his cheek.

"Did I give you a real rein?"

"It's real," Mabel assured him. "That means we have both reins."

"With two reins switched, maybe Dad can get away."

"I don't know," Dipper said. "Lazy Susan says your dad doesn't want to get away, even if he can, until Angus is found."

"I'm sure having two fake reins is helping Dad already—I think he slowed himself down on purpose, or he would have caught me in that last push through the woods."

Dipper said, "I'll take this rein to Mr. Grey. I don't know how much of the bridle he needs to be able to turn into a water horse. Maybe with two reins, he can do something to help us find Angus at the falls."

Dipper and Mabel hiked back to the Mystery Shack with Argyle, who gripped Mabel's hand all the way down. Dipper drove him home to Cherry Farm in the Caddy. Mabel rode along. "You'll be by yourself," she worried. "Isn't it too lonesome here without Angus? Maybe I should stay with you."

"I'll take Cherry Truck into town and get something more to drink. Let me know when you have an idea what to do next. I'll help any way I can. If you can, though, try to leave me out of any plans with that bridle. Now you guys go get some sleep."

Mabel gave him a kiss and said, "I'll leave you a goodnight message on the phone before I go to bed."

Dipper and Mabel stopped at The Witch's Mystery Labyrinth and dropped off the second rein, with a note telling Mr. Grey what had happened so far. At the Mystery Shack, a message from Grenda waited for Mabel on the answering machine. Grenda and Marius were in town visiting her parents, and Mabel could call her back anytime. Mabel called her and gave her the details of what had been happening, and then Mabel and Dipper went to bed.

At dawn the next day, Grenda arrived at the Mystery Shack, wearing traditional Austrian girls' hiking garb and carrying a walking stick. She joined Soos, Dipper, Mabel, Stan, and Ford for omelettes as soon as Greasy's opened, then they all headed out for the falls.

Dipper had drawn a rough map and made copies so each search team could check off the explored regions. Mabel took her grappling hook and accompanied Grenda, who could row a boat almost as fast as Stan and Ford could run Stan's old motorboat.

Soos's new-old fishing boat, _S.S. Cooler Dude_, had been acquired after the sinking of the _S.S. Cool Dude_ by the Gobblewonker, and had been christened in her unimpeachably cool memory. Dipper optimistically brought along a set of Angus's clothes, including his leather jacket, all wrapped in oilcloth.

The rowboat and the motorboat flanked the _Cooler Dude_ and soon fell behind on their way to search woods that could only be reached by water, on opposite sides of the falls. Dipper and Soos headed directly to the cave entrance under the falls. The approach was a long corridor of water framed with bluffs and dense pine forest. All around the shore there were smooth boulders, many of which looked like giant bats if you squinted.

At first, "Angus is at the falls" had sounded like it narrowed his location down, and in a way it had, compared to all the woods and farms around Gravity Falls. However, as the _Cooler Dude_ chugged along it sank home to Dipper how much ground they had to cover. He had always appreciated the expansiveness of the pine woods, but now they looked threateningly depthless. He wondered how they could find one stone vampire amidst all this stone.

Soos had to work hard to steer as they got close to the falls. The boat bobbed in a slow rhythm at first, then pitched sharply and tried to spin. The waterfall overpowered the sound of her motor. Where the torrent impacted the lake it billowed up, white as clouds. The _Cooler Dude's_ prow disappeared into the vapor. The fall itself looked like a sheet of thick, distorted glass that turned to froth as it broke apart over the railing. It splattered huge droplets into Dipper's face, dumped onto the deck and soaked his shoes, pounded over the wheelhouse, and they were under, in relative silence.

The falls seemed quieter inside the cave. A perpetual ripple reached to the beach. Soos turned the _Cooler Dude_ side-on to the beach and swept a spotlight across the coarse, black sand. At one end of the beach was a sheer bank of rock. Soos spun the boat again and got close to the bank, where the water was deep enough for the boat, and let Dipper off to take a look around on foot.

Dipper made his way around the horseshoe curve of the beach, shining his flashlight up toward the back of the cave. At the opposite end of the beach, he was stopped by a jumble of slippery rocks. Here the falls were somewhat thinner, and daylight, streaked with water-shadows, dappled some of the boulders. Dipper hollered to Soos to move the spotlight slowly over the rocks, and looked for anything different from black, slimy boulders that had been eroded by the falls for centuries. None of the rocks were newer or lighter in color; they did not even seem to be the same kind of stone that Angus turned into when he was petrified.

Soos doused the spotlight and Dipper put out the flashlight to see if the shine from an alien grow light would appear in the cavern. Toward the back of the cave, up a slope, there seemed to be more ambient light than the sunlight filtered through the falls should provide. Dipper scrambled up there. The sand turned to tiny pebbles layered with broken shale. The back wall of the cave had a misty veil of daylight thrown on it that suggested a hidden entrance nearby. Dipper determined the direction of the light source and discovered that part of the wall of the cave formed the illusion of being solid, and that there was a tunnel leading outside. The passage was short, and too narrow for Angus to fit through as a bat. The light, even at the outside end, was a dulled silvery-grey. Dipper walked cautiously along the passage until daylight was full in his face and he was sprinkled with spray from the falls. He took a step outside and found himself at a dizzying height, above a cliffside heaped all the way down with mossy rocks.

He went back inside and skidded down through the shale and pebbles to the beach, then ran back to the top of the bank on one end of the falls. Soos helped him onto the deck of the boat. Dipper told Soos, "There's lots of places in the spray zone where he might be hidden, but I'm not climbing on slimy rocks alone. I'll come back tonight with Argyle. He is purported to be sure-footed."

They took the _Cooler Dude_ back under the falls, and the brightness of reflecting lake ripples glinted everywhere, making Dipper squint.

All the searchers met on the swimming beach for lunch and a brief doze so they could be back at it before sundown. Mabel said, "Take my unicorn-riding helmet, bro-bro, since you'll be meeting Argyle later."

"I'm not riding your boyfriend."

Mabel waved the helmet at Dipper insistently. "You never know. You could need it."

"All right, fine. Thank you. But I won't use it."

"You're welcome," said Mabel. "Try not to soak all the stickers off of it under the waterfall."

"I'll buy you more if I do."

"It's not that. I have plenty. It's just that I made it all chinchilla themed in a rainbow pattern, and I'd have to start over. But don't worry if you can't help washing some off."

Soos and Dipper set out in the boat again, moving slowly, watching the shoreline for any signs of disturbance—broken shrubs, crushed grass. The most they found was a muskrat trail.

Shortly after sundown, something fluttered into the wheelhouse. "Woodpecker!" Dipper said instinctively. "It'll destroy the boat!"

The bird alighted on the helm, and Dipper began to say, "Oh, it's only you, Mrs. Balaska, you sounded—" but he shuddered and drew back. The tiny owl's eyes were gone and in their place were black patches weeping into bone-white circles. Dipper tried to say something more, but all he could do was raise a finger and point.

The owl's head swiveled, and there were her real, bright yellow eyes. "Dipper, you look as if you'd seen a ghost."

Dipper sucked in a breath and put his finger down. "Ah—yeah ... you startled me. It took me a second to realize that's just your occipital face."

"Effective, isn't it? It confuses predators."

"Confused me," said Dipper.

"Hey, Mrs. Balaska," said Soos

"Thank you for joining us," added Dipper.

"I haven't eaten," hinted Mrs. Balaska.

"Worry not," said Soos. "I expected to feed vampires tonight. So, to keep up my strength, I have brought with me a sizable sack of burritos. They are keeping warm in this styrofoam fish cooler. I even brought hot sauce. I will be able to give plenty of blood without experiencing wooziness."

Dipper said admiringly, "Soos, you think of everything."

"I hope we have good luck," said Mrs. Balaska. "Mr. Grey said he'll come, too."

"We haven't seen him yet," said Dipper. "We'll be glad if he can make it."

Soos turned on his spotlight. Mrs. Balaska perched on the gunwale. After some time passed with no sound but the chug of the motor, she said, "Soos, Dipper, I see something."

She leaned way out, and a wash of green illuminated her feathers. Dipper said, "Watch out!" just as the owl turned to stone and toppled off the gunwale. Dipper lunged, missed her, gripped the side of the boat and stared into the water, already wondering how they were ever going to find her, when he realized she was right under his nose. She had landed in a fishing net. Soos held the handle. He pulled it safely back on deck, and helped the revived owl untangle her claws from the net.

Mrs. Balaska stayed inside the wheelhouse while Soos and Dipper looked for the source of the grow light. The waves reflected dull moonlight, and among the olive-grey shadows Dipper could see a patch of light green glow, like a small version of the glow over the walls at the labyrinth. Soos's big flashlight showed a bobbing, empty rowboat. They steered as close as they could get, then Soos reached out with a fishing pole and coaxed the rowboat until it bumped the _Cooler Dude's_ hull.

Something had splintered the edges of the boat's sides. In the bottom were a handful of alien grow lights, and several pieces of thick rope with tattered ends.

Dipper had already deduced that Thatch had tied Angus up, but seeing the ropes made him angry. He regarded the rowboat for a couple of minutes, gritting his front teeth together and huffing. "All right," he said, and shook his head to clear it. "Thatch must have had a hiding place for Angus all planned out, but they didn't get that far. Angus escaped. He bit through these ropes. For some reason, Thatch had to let him wake up before he could row far enough to put him where he'd planned on putting him."

"Petrified vampires are heavy, dude. Hard work rowing," said Soos. "The scarecrow is strong, however. Do you think he got tired?"

"I think so, yeah. He has to run out of fear energy sometimes. Angus was in human form, but that still meant he was three times heavier than a non-stone guy. Thatch had to leave Caesar on the shore, so if he had to get more fear in order to keep going, or if he couldn't row without lightening the load, he had to risk letting Angus wake up. And he found out these ropes couldn't hold a vampire."

Dipper held Mrs. Balaska carefully, with his hands around her closed wings, while she peered into the water. It was unnerving, since the ghostly mock eyes on the back of her head seemed to stare at him the whole time. "None of the rocks down there looks like a man or a bat," she said after some time.

"The rowboat could have drifted after Thatch abandoned it," said Soos. "Or Angus could have flown away after he escaped. Argyle seemed to think Thatch was focusing on areas closer to the falls. But hark." Soos cupped a hand by his ear. They heard Cherry Truck honking back by the dock. "There is the unicorn now. Let us switch tactics."

Argyle boarded the boat at the end of the dock. Soos gave Dipper and human-form Argyle a ride to the cliffs in the spray zone. He found a place where the boat didn't jounce around too much, sheltered from the waves by a semi-circle of high rocks. He pulled up alongside a rock jutting out of deep water. Argyle hopped down, and Dipper climbed down the ladder hooked over the gunwale. Argyle turned into a unicorn.

Here the rocks were wet, but not slimy. Dipper found good footing, and he and Argyle jumped from rock to rock to a scrap of sandy beach. Mrs. Balaska stayed with Soos on the _Cooler Dude_.

Argyle and Dipper headed up the heaps of rocks on the cliffside, angling slowly toward the falls. Argyle could see in the dark, and Dipper carried a lantern. The vapor from the falls seemed to cloud the moonlight along the cliff. The closer they got to the waterfall, the mossier the rocks became. Every surface spilled over with furry-looking, squishy tufts that gave way under Dipper's palms and toes. Argyle skipped up the rock piles.

Eventually Dipper reached Argyle waiting for him on a thread of dirt trail. Dipper leaned his back against the bluff and peered down at the fuzzy forms of all the mossy rocks in the dark. "Do you see anything?"

"Not yet," said Argyle. He hopped, goat-like, to a ledge of dirt held in place by thick roots and stood with one cloven hoof divided over a tiny, determined tree trunk that spiraled out from the ledge. "I don't see him. All the rocks here are covered in plants and dirt. He should stand out."

"Nothing stands out," said Dipper. "And the noise from the falls is making it so I can't think. Did Thatch bring you up here? He could have already searched this area."

"He rode me clear around the lake and started from the top of the falls," said Argyle. "We didn't make it down this far."

He skittered down to the trail in front of Dipper. Pebbles and dirt dropped off beneath Dipper's toes and rattled and sifted among the boulders. Dipper kept one hand on the cliff wall behind the trail, and they walked until they came to a place where spray had long ago transformed the dirt into mud and washed it away. Dipper had to scramble over rocks coated with olive-green slime and trickling with droplets of condensed mist.

Argyle disappeared and reappeared repeatedly in the spray. He huffed and licked the mist off his lips. "Why don't you just ride? Hop on." So Dipper finally strapped on Mabel's helmet. Argyle stood where there was room for Dipper to mount with the cliff at his back and Argyle at his front. Dipper took a fistful of the unicorn's mane, swung a leg over and settled into place on his back.

"Don't move much," said Argyle. He hopped from rock to rock, and sometimes let a hoof slide in the slime to catch himself in the cracks between, tilting Dipper to one side. His hunched-up hops made Dipper feel as if Argyle were trying to buck him off, until he got used to the rocking pattern.

They arrived at a breezeless ledge, where shrubs soaked up and blocked the spray. With no wind nor water to discourage them, mosquitoes swarmed luxuriantly and ravenously. "Lucky us," said Dipper. "We've found the headquarters of every mosquito in the state of Oregon."

Argyle said, "They don't bother me."

"I can't ride and slap my legs at the same time." Dipper had a death grip with both hands on Argyle's mane. "How about a little help?"

Argyle switched his tail on one side, then the other, brushing Dipper's lower legs. The coarse hairs stung, but it was much better than mosquito bites.

Argyle climbed higher, the wet breeze came back, and the waterfall tumbled past, cloudy at the edges where it burst over rocks, and shiny black where it poured free of interference and reflected the moon. The bluff was pale, and it was easy to spot a deep, dark split in the stone. Canes and fronds of spray-loving plants bent across the opening. The entrance was widest at the bottom; at the top was nothing but a zig-zagged crack.

"This could lead into the big cave. I think I came to this spot from inside, during the day." Dipper slid down Argyle's damp side, his shorts, knees and lower legs covered in shed hairs. "Stay close." Dipper went first, with a lantern, and Argyle stayed behind him, with his nose touching Dipper's shoulder.


	24. In the Cave

********

The lantern didn't show much, just orange and pale yellow flickers on damp black rock. Dipper could tell by the feel of the space and the muted sound of the falls that the passage had let them out far back in the same large cave he was familiar with.

"It slopes down that way," said Argyle. "Watch your step."

Slivers of shale made a top layer like pick-up-sticks over tiny, round pebbles. Dipper skidded down the sliding stones. He thought Argyle wasn't following and looked back, and found the unicorn directly behind him, silent as a fuzzy ghost. He stepped so daintily on the stones that he barely moved them. Dipper put out the lantern, hoping to see an alien grow light. The waterfall split moonlight into streaks and dots, but otherwise it was deeply dark in the cave.

A voice echoed from down the beach. "Dipper. Dipper Pines, are you in here?"

"It's Mr. Grey," said Dipper. He lit the lantern again and ran down to the beach, making wild steps to catch his balance whenever he slid. Argyle tripped along silently behind. Dipper called out, "I'm here!"

Mr. Grey stood in the shallow water near the beach. He was fully dressed and wore his reins, tied together, over one shoulder. "I found your vampire bat."

"What? You did! Where is he?"

Mr. Grey pointed to the wall of flat rock at the end of the waterfall. "Through there."

"He's on the other side of the falls?"

"Not precisely. That looks like one sheet of water, but it isn't. The end of the waterfall is split, coming down, into two spouts, one on the outside, and one here on the inside. The bat is against the wall, between them."

"Did you see a grow light?"

"There's a glow coming from inside his mouth. It may be one of the lights from the labyrinth. If I investigate further without help, and he awakens, I'll have difficulty bringing him directly to you on the beach. He may not be reasonable. My own blood is no good to vampires."

"I'll come along and help hold him," said Argyle.

"No," said Dipper. "I'll go with Mr. Grey. There might be lots of grow lights around. You stay here with the lantern." He left his socks on the beach and wore his shoes to protect his feet from rocks.

Mr. Grey said, "This is harder when I can't turn into a horse. But the reins help me see and breathe underwater." He held his elbow out to Dipper. "Hold onto my arm."

Dipper held on. At first he was able to walk alongside Mr. Grey, but soon his feet lifted off the bottom and he had to kick. The ripple that emanated from the falls bobbed him around. Mr. Grey moved along steadily. It was hard to tell the difference between water and Mr. Grey's arm. Dipper held on tighter and tighter, then it felt like he was gripping nothing but water. He paddled with one hand to keep his nose and mouth up where he could grab an occasional breath.

He could just see Mr. Grey's white turtleneck collar, and imagined the rest of his outline. The nuggle was almost the same colors as the speckles of light and the wide, flat shadows. Dipper blinked water out of his eyes and the white turtleneck disappeared. He wasn't being pulled steadily forward anymore—his grip really was full of nothing but water, and he tumbled backward. He tried kicking to right himself, but kicked too hard and spun himself upside-down. Mr. Grey gripped his upper leg, turned him upright, and placed Dipper's hand back where it was supposed to be.

They emerged into a cove, black on one side, grey on the other where moonlight came through the falls. Here the water was calm, except for a slight sloshing as the ripple from the falls broke against slimy rocks.

Mr. Grey boosted Dipper up. Dipper patted about for any stone he could get a grip on. He found one, thought the texture was familiar, and wiped his eyes to clear his vision. Sure enough, the only rock not covered in algae was Angus. Dipper looked up and could see the bat's shoulder blades and the lines of his forearms. Angus had hooked the big claw on each of his wings into gaps in the rock

Dipper supported his back against the mucky stones and wedged his sneaker against Angus's hip. From the side, he could see Angus's chin, parallel with the wall. An old leather boot stuck out of his mouth. Dipper pushed and tugged at it. The boot was upside-down against the rock, and the opening, what would normally be the top of the boot, was inside Angus's mouth. He had pierced the leather with an upper canine tooth and the lower canine on the same side. From inside his mouth came the glow of a grow light. His teeth weren't quite as sharp in stone as they were when he was awake, so they did not cut through the boot when Dipper pulled on it. The boot blocked him from getting a hand down in Angus's mouth and removing the light.

Dipper told Mr. Grey, "Thatch must have been carrying a light in his boot. Angus tore the boot off of Thatch while they were fighting, but it didn't matter then, because the light was down in the toe. He climbed up here while the boot was stuck in his teeth, and he slipped and had to catch himself. The boot flipped up, and the light slid out."

"Here is the knife I've been saving for you," said Mr. Grey, "and another for Mabel, because she helped get my reins back."

"Thanks. But we don't have your bridle back yet."

"You will get it, I'm sure. You cut the boot, I'll hold onto him."

Dipper opened the knife and sawed into the boot. Mr. Grey said, "I'll be ready with my hand on his chest. Let me know when to force him off of you."

Dipper tossed the boot into the water, and was able to work his finger in over Angus's stone tongue and flick the light out onto his other palm, and stick it in his pocket. Stone split and cracked off of Angus's translucent teeth. A few wet flecks of stone dropped from his ears, stone crumbled over his wrinkled forehead, but in the dampness, some of it stuck to his fur. Angus had said of himself that he was "mostly fluff", but with his fur soaked and flattened against his head and shoulders, he was still gigantic. He smacked his lips, blinked and his eyes were shiny again. Dipper patted Angus's chin and tried to draw his gaze by guiding his jaw. Angus looked down at him. "Where's the light? Put it on me, quick!"

Dipper said, "We just took it out of your mouth."

Angus pushed himself off the wall and into the water. He flapped his wings in a scooping motion that propelled him across the pool and halfway under the foaming edge of the waterfall. Mr. Grey plunged in after him and disappeared. Dipper hung helplessly onto the rocks, watching. After a long minute Angus's head came back under the falls, pushed from below and behind. He splashed and spluttered. "No! I'll kill him!"

Mr. Grey was underneath Angus, gripping the bat's upper arm, the bone and membrane that ran along the front of his wing. Angus was lifted up on that side, and Mr. Grey's other arm could be seen shoving him up by the pit of his wing. Mr. Grey hauled Angus up to the rocks near Dipper, waited for him to find purchase for his claws, and climbed out himself.

Dipper leaned out as far as he dared, and helped pull Angus by his forearm-bone. "Angus, it's me. You won't kill me. Mr. Grey will stop you in plenty of time. Don't fight him!"

Angus's face took on a familiar worried expression, then all recognition blanked out of his eyes. He scrabbled up the rocks and touched Dipper with a claw and stuck his pug nose in his face. "Stay with me a minute," he said in a soothing, drifting voice. "Don't be afraid."

Dipper swallowed. "I'm not afraid. I need to feed you. Do you even recognize me?"

"Of course," Angus said in a hollow voice. "You're very nice. I'm nice, too. This will only take a minute." The nick he made was small, despite his enormous canine tooth. Dipper watched in fascination as Angus's tongue drew his blood up in rivulets. Dipper kept count of the seconds in his head. He planned to go two or three minutes and then try to get Angus's attention.

Mr. Grey supported Angus with both hands under the upper bone of his wing. The claw on Angus's opposite wing was hooked in a gap. Angus closed his eyes, and moved his claw, as if to get closer to Dipper, but the slimy algae made his claw slip when he laid it down again. He tapped frantically for a hold. Mr. Grey clenched Angus's wing with one hand, and with his other hand caught the bat's chin. Angus's eyes flashed. "No. I'm not done. Leave me alone." He swatted the nuggle's arm, lost his balance and slid down the rocks. Mr. Grey let go of Angus's jaw to grab a fold of skin on his neck and haul him up. Angus tilted his head, twisted his neck and chomped on Mr. Grey's arm. Iridescent blue blood speckled the bat's lips. He licked some, shook his head, and flicked the tip of his tongue in and out in evident disgust.

He shrugged the wing Mr. Grey was holding, and when that didn't shake him off, he punched him in the chest with the knuckle of the opposite wing. Mr. Grey lost his hold, and Angus flailed and flapped. Mr. Grey caught him by the fronts of his wing membranes. Angus lunged for his face, snapping.

"Wait, wait! don't fight him!" Dipper's arm was smeared with diluted blood. He pressed the spot to make a trickle. "Angus."

Angus clambered back up to Dipper, his claws slipping on the algae. Mr. Grey surreptitiously supported him under his wing. Angus's expression was blank, and he did not meet Dipper's eyes. He stuck his tongue back out and lapped at his arm. "Mr. Grey, you okay?" asked Dipper. "Hurt bad?"

"Not bad."

A few moments later, Dipper started calling to Angus. "You in there, buddy?" He knocked with his free hand on Angus's forehead.

Angus twitched, and his eyes cleared. He blinked slowly and looked from Mr. Grey to Dipper. His worry lines bunched into deep furrows. "How much did I take?"

"Hardly any. You gave Mr. Grey a nip by mistake."

"Sorry about that."

Mr. Grey said, "I heal quickly."

"Thanks, guys." Angus gave Dipper a lick on the cheek.

Dipper half-smiled, wrinkled his nose and tilted his head. "I love you too, man."

Mr. Grey rippled away in the water to check that there were no grow lights on the bottom between the nook and the beach. He returned and towed Angus, with a claw hooked over one of his elbows, and Dipper, holding him with the other arm, back to the beach inside the cave.

Dipper called out, "Argyle! We got Angus."

Angus scrubbed water out of his eyes with his toe. "Is he here?"

"Yeah, I left him right around here."

Mr. Grey stayed in water up to his waist. "I will find the boats, and let them know we have found the bat." 

"I appreciate it, Mr. Grey," said Dipper, and before he had finished speaking the grey man had vanished.

The lantern was right where Dipper had left it, his socks and the unicorn-riding helmet were there, but Argyle was nowhere to be seen. Angus lifted his head and his nose quivered. "Did you bring candles into the cave with you? It smells like someone just doused a candle."

Dipper scritched Angus's cheek to coax him to tip his ear down. "It's him," he whispered. "The scarecrow. Ford and Stan faked a fight with him and put something in his shirt—shavings of stuff that gives off that smell when it vaporizes."

Angus gave a start. "Was Argyle a unicorn when you left him?"

"Yeah, but he turned human as soon as he smelled that waxy smell," said Dipper. "At least, that was the plan."

A triumphant "**Yeah!**" sounded from under the falls as Grenda rowed through and shot the boat halfway onto the beach. She and Mabel stepped out of the rowboat, and Grenda picked it up and tipped it sideways, pouring out the water the falls had dumped into it.

"Did Mr. Grey find you?" Dipper asked. "You got here fast."

Mabel hugged Angus and said, "Oh, I'm so glad to see you." Then, with her arms around the bat, she answered Dipper. "We were on our way under, to see if you'd found Angus. Mr. Grey met us outside. He's going along the shore to see if he can find Soos and Stan and Ford. Where's Argyle? And why does it smell like birthday cake in here? Is that—"

"Yeah," said Dipper. "Here somewhere. Argyle must have smelled it, and went to do something about him. We don't know where he is yet." He asked Angus, "Is your dad here, too? Can you hear him?"

"I'm trying to," said Angus. "It's hard to tell with the falls." His ears swiveled and quivered.

"He could be turned to stone," said Dipper.

"No, I do hear him. He's up there." Angus stuck a claw in the coarse sand, pointing up the incline toward the rear corner.

"That's the way Argyle and I came in."

"I don't hear Argyle." Angus crept up the slope with the others behind him. They gradually sensed a deep red glow in the back of the cave. Where the slope leveled off, they paused.

Several yards away, close to the hole that led to the outside, Caesar's eyes lit his own face and faintly showed Argyle, petrified in human form, with his arms out to each side, blocking the passage. The end of a rein was pressed between his stone palm and the crenellated rock wall. Thatch was at Caesar's head, muttering and fiddling with the other end of the rein.

"**Get him!**"

Thatch managed to unfasten the rein, and it dropped onto the sand. He hopped astride Caesar's withers.

Angus scurried two steps and with one flap of his wings landed beside Caesar. Grenda charged up behind him, yelling and brandishing a grow light. Angus snagged Thatch's pant leg in his teeth. The scarecrow's shirt detached from his pants and crawled up Angus's face. Angus spit out the pants and brought his arm up to scrub the scarecrow off of his face. Grenda took a bad step on the unstable pebbles, lurched forward and caught herself with her fingertips. Thatch flopped off of Angus's head onto the sand and met up with his pants. Angus fell back, pawing at his ear and shaking his head, and turned to stone just as he dropped his wing over Grenda. "**Hey!**" Her voice was slightly muffled from being trapped in the hollow of Angus's wing.

Dipper and Mabel were close behind Grenda when Angus backed over her, and he nearly bumped into them. Dipper dodged, stumbled and scraped his chin on Angus's lower back, and Mabel skidded down onto her butt. Dipper gave his chin an impatient rub, helped Mabel up, and they ran around Angus.

Thatch was on Caesar's back again. Caesar reared, jerked his head, and took a few choppy steps. Dipper could not be sure that Mr. Grey had found the Grunkles or Soos, but he declared, "There are boats guarding the falls. You'll never get Caesar out that way. You have to let him go."

"Fine," said Thatch. "Enjoy your starving vampire." He leaned up along Caesar's neck, lifted the bridle over his ears, let it drop below his muzzle, snatched it and slid off over Caesar's hip. Thatch jumped onto Argyle's petrified head and was disappearing over his back, escaping into the passage that led out of the cave.

“He’s not starving,” said Dipper. “He ate in the woods last night.” 

Caesar stretched out his long neck and snapped up Thatch's shirttail in his teeth. He whipped him back and forth, dropped him and knelt on his pants, gripped his collar and shook it until the pumpkin head dangled loosely in the twine net. Thatch's gloves flailed. Straw blew out of his waist and shirt collar and dispersed and tried to collect again, so there was a glinting cloud all around Caesar's head.

Mabel dodged in close to Caesar, crying, "Don't really kill him!"

Dipper shouted, "Mabel, get out of his way! Let Caesar handle it."

Thatch's Pants squiggled out of the straw cloud, dragging the boots along on their ends. Mabel grabbed the pants and cuddled them to her chest.

A glove closed around Caesar's fetlock. He bit it off and flung it away. It lay on its back, wiggling its fingers. Dipper ran to make sure it didn't escape. He picked it up by the wrist opening, but the glove yanked itself out of his hand and sped through the air back toward Caesar. At the same time, Thatch's pants tore themselves out of Mabel's arms. The gold cloud formed a tight whirlwind. It swirled around Caesar's head, and Caesar straightened up, with the bridle on his face. Thatch, whole again, clung to his withers.

Mabel reached and hopped, her fingers brushed Caesar's cheekbone, but she didn't get the bridle. "Caesar, fight him and put your head down!"

Dipper did not share Mabel's confidence so near to Caesar's teeth. He moved around to the horse's side and aimed a grow light at him. Petrification bloomed and fanned out on Caesar's flank.

One of Thatch's gloves parted from its sleeve, held the rein in two fingers and used the other fingers to crawl up Caesar's mane to his poll. Thatch dismounted and scuffled over to Dipper. He wrapped his remaining glove over Dipper's hand, dousing the light, and dragged him by his heels through sand and dully clattering shards of shale. Dipper raised his other hand to try to bend the glove fingers open, but Thatch stopped and slipped his empty sleeve over Dipper's hand and up his arm. Thatch stuck his pumpkin face close to Dipper's nose. Besides the smells of doused candle, lake, horse and wet baling twine, there was a faint odor of warm, damp grass, like that of the field where the pumpkin lay before Thatch had put it back on his body.

Dipper pulled back, and Thatch's cuff closed tightly around his arm. "Drop the light." Thatch loosened his grip, and Dipper dropped the light. "Get rid of every light you have in your clothes. Put them all in my shirt."

Dipper pushed against Thatch's shirt with his free hand, but had no effect on the scarecrow. Behind Thatch, Caesar circled Mabel, rolling his eyes and holding his head high and at an odd sideways angle. He started to weave out of the circle, then snaked back in, his eyes adding flickery red highlights to Mabel's eyes. Thatch's glove clung to the crownpiece of the bridle.

Dipper struggled against Thatch and called to Mabel, "He doesn't have any control over himself! You'll be hurt."

Mabel's voice was loud but calm. "No, I've got him. He can fight. He's trying to help me get the bridle."

A pale shape in motion caught Dipper's attention. Mr. Grey came walking swiftly up the slope. Dipper relaxed only the merest smidgen, but Thatch seemed to pick up on it, because he spun his pumpkin around to see what Dipper was looking at. Caesar turned on the nuggle and growled. Then he spoke clearly. "Sorry, Grey."

Caesar reared and struck right next to Mabel's head, his forehooves in blurry swift motion, and Dipper's heart dropped into his stomach, but Caesar made two direct hits on Mr. Grey. Mabel was on the side of Caesar opposite Dipper and his hooves flew past her.

The blows sounded like someone punching a tarp full of water. Mr. Grey staggered; Caesar bucked, turned on his forehooves and kicked him with both back hooves, and Mr. Grey fell. Caesar turned and stuck his head out to Mabel. He leaned back, with his neck at full length, as if she were physically pulling him and he was resisting. She put her palm on a cheekpiece of the bridle. Caesar collected himself out of his long reach, and stood shivering, head bowed.

Thatch moved in that direction, pulling his sleeve off of Dipper's arm as he went. Dipper gripped a fold inside of the sleeve and stood his ground. The fold forcibly straightened and Thatch whipped the sleeve off of Dipper's arm and pushed him. Dipper reeled and fell back on his elbows. He picked himself up too quickly and slipped down again, then made his way slowly to his feet.

Thatch approached Caesar, and the glove dropped off the crownpiece, holding onto the rein. Thatch stuck out his sleeve and the glove reattached. He said to Mabel in a dangerous tone, "Take your hand off the bridle."

Mabel ducked and shivered, wrapped her arms all the way around Caesar's face and squished her cheek against his forehead. "Never!"

Thatch clumped toward her. His boots crunched on the sand. "I can open your hand for you."

"It's all right, Mabel Pines. You can take your hand off the bridle." Mr. Grey stood, slightly lopsided. He had a shimmering blue cut on his cheek. His turtleneck had come untucked and water sheeted slowly out over his trousers. He tucked the shirt back in and took the real reins from over his shoulder. Thatch was at Caesar's shoulder, opposite Mr. Grey, and facing Mabel. She held the bridle, and Thatch snatched up the remaining fake rein. Immediately Caesar began to shiver and his eyes flashed. Mr. Grey sent both real reins over Caesar's face, just behind the noseband, and Mabel caught them. Mr. Grey whipped his ends of the reins around the cheekpiece, so they dangled but were wound tightly around the bridle, and Mabel did the same with the ends on her side.

Thatch grabbed the dangling ends of the reins on his side with one glove and reached for the crownpiece with the other. Mr. Grey stood in front of Caesar and pulled the bridle off of his head before Thatch could grasp it. Mabel stepped back. Mr. Grey placed the bridle on his head, and his face changed and filled out the headstall. Distortion rippled from his head and over his body, solidifying into a dappled neck, and then Mr. Grey was a silvery grey and white horse.

Thatch dropped the reins and leaped away. He skidded on the sand; his boot heels stuck out in opposite directions and his pants bent sideways at the knees. He recovered himself just as Grenda heaved Angus up by his petrified wing. She held the bat up with one hand and grabbed Thatch by his sleeve with the other. He pushed against her with both gloves and escaped her grip, but by then Mr. Grey was gaining on him. Grenda stepped out from under Angus's wing and let the bat back down into the sand. Dipper hurried up beside her.

Mr. Grey ran alongside Thatch, leaned back on his haunches, and flipped his wheel-like tail, flinging droplets of water over Grenda and Dipper. He wrapped his tail hairs around one of Thatch's pant legs. The hairs tightened themselves. Thatch tried to pry them apart with his gloves, and more hairs entangled his fingers and wrists. Mr. Grey curled his tail sideways, up onto his back, and plastered Thatch there with tail hairs spreading over all of the scarecrow's limbs and down Mr. Grey's back and flanks.

"You're coming with me," said Mr. Grey. "You need a lesson on stealing my bridle, and our vampires need a long rest from you. It's time someone gave you a taste of your own bitter medicine."

"I wasn't made to feel fear of my own," said the scarecrow. "Nothing you do can scare me."

"We'll see about that." Mr. Grey ran down the slope, his silvery-dappled rump and shiny tail swiftly becoming only a pale smudge in the dark, and there came a splash, barely heard over the regular noise of the falls.

Caesar was shaking with exhaustion. Mabel hugged him with her cheek on his forehead and her arms under his cheekbones.

Dipper asked her, "You okay?"

"Yeah. You?"

"I'm good."

Mabel patted Caesar's nose. "I gotta go get Argyle. He's got a glowstick on him."

Dipper said, "You're not too worried about what Mr. Grey is gonna do to Thatch?"

Mabel shrugged a little. "You're not, are you?"

Dipper hesitated, but had to admit, "Not really. I'm not feeling anything. Just a little curious about what Mr. Grey is going to come up with. I'm tired. I guess Mr. Grey'll find out what scares Thatch, if anything can."

"That scarecrow needs to learn to cut out the evil behaviors. Mr. Grey isn't really mean, and Thatch _is_ really mean, so I think it'll work out."

"Um. Yeah. I guess that makes sense."

Mabel de-petrified Argyle. He turned back into a unicorn and nuzzled her on the face. She scratched between his ears.

Grenda climbed up Angus's back and removed a grow light from his ear. The stone cracked; he blinked his huge eyes and looked quickly around; seeing everyone calm, he shook himself, but a lot of damp stone dust stuck to him. Grenda sat on his back through the shaking, then raked her fingers through his damp fur and flung flakes of stone to the ground.

Caesar bumped Dipper's upper arm with his hard forehead. "Dipper."

Dipper surprised himself—instead of saying anything, he put his arms around the horse's neck. "I wouldn't have hurt her," Caesar said. "If I thought she was in danger, I would have obeyed the scarecrow and run away from Mabel."

Dipper said, "I'm glad we got you back."

Angus laid a wing over Caesar's back, hugging him with it. "I'm still really hungry," Angus whispered to Dipper.

"Soos and Grunkle Ford and everybody is close by. They can help."

Argyle tripped on his cloven hooves over the sand to his dad, nuzzled him, lipped at his cheek, turned human and stood just under the edge of Angus's wing. He laid his cheek on Caesar's shoulder with his arm over his withers. Dipper made a face and leaned his head back to show his aversion to looking at human-Argyle naked. "Dude."

"Shut up," said Argyle.

Mabel said, "Your clothes are still on Soos's boat, Argyle. We have clothes for all of you vampires, if you want to turn human. We have your leather jacket, Angus. But I'm afraid we forgot to bring a pair of your cool shades."

"That's okay," said Angus. "I can be cool without them."


	25. The Pine Tree Tattoo

********

Dipper let Mabel have the shower first. He sat in the kitchen in his lake-watery clothes and listened for the phone. Caesar, Argyle, and Angus had gone home together in Cherry Truck, and Angus had promised to call Dipper to let him know they'd made it home safely. Mrs. Balaska had kept apologizing for Thatch's bad behavior. Then she had said goodnight and was about to fly away, but Soos offered to take her home in his truck.

Mabel padded into the kitchen in her pajamas and took a spoon from the dish drainer and a jar of locally-made maple-swirl peanut butter from the cupboard. "I'll sit in the living room and wait for a call. You can get your shower now."

When Dipper got out of the shower, Mabel was sitting cross-legged in the old armchair. She sucked the swirled peanut butter off the upside-down bowl of the spoon. "No call yet. Want some?" She pulled the spoon from her mouth and flipped it upright, showing the licked-smooth maple peanut butter.

"Thanks," Dipper said hoarsely, in a way that meant, _but no thanks_. The phone rang. Dipper lunged for the receiver.

"We're here. Thanks for waiting up."

"No problem. Thanks for calling." Dipper allowed himself a deep sigh as he hung up.

Mabel said, "There's a _Ducktective_ marathon tonight, wanna watch?"

"That would normally be a yes. But right now I wouldn't mind turning to stone myself for a few hours."

"Okay. Sleep tight, bro-bro."

Dipper climbed the steps to the attic and dropped into bed with no shirt. He pulled a corner of the sheet over his boxers so as not to offend Mabel if she were to wake up before him and see him sprawled half-naked.

He woke late in the morning. "Ugh." Dipper hauled himself into a sitting position and rubbed the heel of his hand over the bridge of his nose. The light was hazy and the hot attic held a homey scent of baking dry-rot. Mabel's bed was empty and unmade. Dipper got up and stretched, threw on some shorts and ran down to the second-floor bathroom.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his back in the mirror. He squinted and rubbed his eyes. He went and stood as straight as he could in front of the sink mirror and craned to look over his shoulder. "Oh, no. Oh, no."

The letters of Mabel's name were colored in with pink marker.

Dipper called down the stairs: "Mabel!" She didn't answer. Dipper ran back up to the attic, put on a shirt and ran down again. The living room and kitchen were empty. He found Ford in the gift shop. "Grunkle Ford, have you seen Mabel?"

"Hello, Dipper. Yes. She and Waddles rode away in a gorgeous vintage convertible touring car with an Austrian baron."

Dipper sagged. "I was afraid of that." He took the Caddy out to Grenda's.

Grenda came out onto the porch as he walked up, which was not a good sign. Normally she would just yell for him to come in. "**Dipper! Mabel is hiding from you and she won't tell me why. What's happened?**"

Dipper sighed with determination and gripped the hem of his shirt. "It's my truth to tell. I might as well tell it." He raised his shirt and showed Grenda his back.

Grenda gasped. "**Dipper! You got a secret tattoo of Mabel's name without asking her permission! And she found out about it! Oh my gosh! This is heavy-duty drama!**"

"Can you find out if she'll see me?"

"**I'll try. Wait here.**"

Dipper sat on the porch steps and waited for what seemed like a long while before Grenda came back. "**Sorry, Dipper. She won't see you. She'll see you later, at home. She said to tell you that the marker will wash off.**"

"I know it will. Tell her that's not what I'm worried about."

"**Would you like the coffee tray and some cakes out here on the porch? Marius could keep you company while I stay with Mabel.**"

"Thank you, but I feel kind of weird being here, when she's trying to hide from me in your house. I'd better go."

Dipper made up his mind to do something productive—to cook something really good for supper for the Grunkles. He picked up a pie from the diner on the way home. Then he had to find some other way to keep himself busy. It would be a long time until he could reasonably start supper.

Since Dipper had started taking care of the kitchen at Greasy's, the kitchen at home at the Mystery Shack had gradually improved, but there were still odd substances and things to clean out. Dipper tackled them. If he couldn't identify them and they looked hazardous to human health, he put them in the backyard until he could ask Grunkle Stan about them. While he was at it, and because he was desperate to do something that didn't involve worrying about how mad Mabel was, he took the mounted wolf head down off the top of the refrigerator. The top of the fridge he scrubbed with degreaser until it glistened.

The wolf head was layered with dust and cooking grease. Dipper decided he was not qualified to mess with it, would put up with the dirty looks from the people at Taxidermy by the Pound when they saw how he evidently neglected wolf heads, and drove it down there to leave with them for professional cleaning. He browsed their available stock, bought a few ground squirrels, and drove a slow, winding way home around the rock formations. He only got more keyed up on the way. Grunkle Stan was home. Though Dipper did not expect his sister back so soon, he asked, trying to sound casual, "Mabel here?"

"No." Stan pointed at the ground squirrels under Dipper's arm. "Are those for me?"

"Yeah. I thought maybe you'd like them."

"Good timing. Micky Hernandez set me up with a lot of tiny sombreros. Now I just gotta think of some puns. Thanks, kid."

"You're welcome. Have fun with them." Dipper opened a kitchen window and the back kitchen door to let in some air, then went out and found a picnic table in the shade and did some reading.

Eventually it got buggy out, and Dipper came back inside, tucked a dish towel into his belt for an apron and fried some chicken. He was good at it. The diner had a fryer, but they shut it down a couple of hours before closing every night. After that, if somebody wanted fried chicken and was willing to wait, the cook would make it on the stove. He had taught Dipper how to make a great fried chicken.

He heard a car in the front parking area; his stomach flopped and his heart dropped, but the car sounded too small to be the touring car. He peeked out the front of the gift shop. The driver of the little car got out, pushed back her glasses, hefted a heavy purse off the seat and slung it over her shoulder.

Dipper threw open the door, let it crash closed behind him, and pelted down the porch steps. "Candy!"

"Dipper." She returned his hug.

He didn't want to let her go, squeezed her and kissed her on the forehead. "It's good to see you."

"You as well, Dipper."

"How are things in the real world?"

"They are good. Is Mabel at home?"

"Ah ... she's over at Grenda's. Grenda and Marius are visiting her parents for a couple of months." They walked up the porch steps and he held open the door for her.

"Grenda is in town? That is good news. It is perfect. All the friends are combined at once. I will use your telephone to call—"

"Oh, hey, um, why don't you stay for supper? I'm cooking tonight. You can call Mabel and Grenda afterward. I can tell you what's been going on."

"Very well, Dipper."

Besides the chicken, Dipper served apple walnut salad, buttered string beans with red onions, and a peanut butter chocolate pie.

"You did so well with cooking everything," said Candy. "It is delicious."

"I'm happy you're enjoying it." A minute later Dipper added, "I didn't make the pie."

Ford snorted. Stan smiled, and Dipper giggled. Then Stan laughed, and Candy's laugh piped up, too.

"We should write Lazy Susan a thank-you note," said Candy.

After supper, Dipper lay on his back in bed in the attic. Candy chose to sit on the floor on a loose chair cushion that Mabel had appliqued with a pink pig's face.

Candy thought over everything that Dipper had told her. "You are in love with Mabel."

Dipper clicked his tongue. Took a long breath. "Yeah."

"And now she has learned that you are in love with her."

"Yep."

Outside, a woodpecker clucked persistently in the twilight. Candy was quiet.

"Candy?"

"I am here. On the floor still. I am thinking."

Dipper was silent again. The humidity was lifting some with nightfall, but it was still damp on his skin.

Candy spoke. "You are sweet and hot. You have a chance with Mabel."

Dipper cleared his throat. "That's nice of you to say. You don't think me being her actual own twin brother will put her off?"

Candy scooched her cushion closer to the bed and placed her small hand on Dipper's wrist. "Mabel is not prejudiced. She will not hold that against you. You cannot help being her brother."

Dipper let out a short hum and swallowed awkwardly. He said gruffly, "Thanks, Candy."

"I now am going to telephone Grenda, and ask for Mabel to come home."

"Yeah, of course, okay. I've kept you long enough. It's been really good seeing you."

"It has been also my pleasure, Dipper." Candy headed downstairs.

A moment later, Dipper pulled himself out of bed, stumbled and rushed halfway down the stairs. "Candy, tell her I'll leave you guys alone."

"But I cannot tell her that. We are like the Three Musketeers, and we need you to be d'Artagnan."

"That sounds nice, but I better lie low."

"Okay, I will tell her it is safe to come home."

"You Musketeers can use the living room. I'll stay out of it." Dipper went back to his bed and threw himself onto it on his stomach, and smushed his chin into the pillow.

Soon, the touring car purred into the parking area of the Shack. "**CANDY!**"

The windows rattled. Dipper smiled. He flipped onto his back, and onto his side, onto his belly again, got out of bed and padded in his stocking feet down to the bathroom. He took his shirt off, and stood looking at his back in the mirror. He worried that the pink marker would all wash away the next time he showered. He returned to the attic.

He stood at the triangular stained glass window, held his hand up and played the colors over his fingers and palm. He pushed the window open and looked out, felt the evening air on his chest, watched headlights wind up the road and disappear into the trees. The road wound about so much that a car coming from town disappeared into the woods before appearing at the Shack or going farther up the mountain. Dipper idly watched the next set of headlights winding up from town, until he realized they belonged to a pale pink Oldmobile.

"No. Oh no. He'll see my back." Dipper could have put the same T-shirt on again, but it suddenly looked too thin. He grabbed his thickest, darkest shirt and clambered up into it as much as he pulled it down over himself, reaching and flailing through the sleeves. He clattered downstairs and made a whirlwind tour of the gift shop. He stopped at a box of plastic rings, the kind with the clasp open at the bottom, so they would spread to fit anyone's finger.

The rings were bunched together, their novelty shapes sticking into one another. Dipper shook out a handful, picked through the colors he couldn't use, and found a black one, _Black's okay, black's cool_. He picked it up and shook its spider legs free of all the rings around it, for it was a black plastic spider—crudely painted with tiny red smears for eyes, and a red hourglass on the top side of its abdomen. "But that's the spider's back," Dipper said aloud, to no one but the ring. "Female black widows have the hourglass marking, and it's on the ventral side of the abdomen, whereas males may have some red spots—eh, never mind."

Cherry Car rolled up in front of the Shack. Dipper had a minute before Angus would be done standing by the car, combing his hair. Dipper shoved the ring into his pocket, fished a quarter out of his coin pocket and tossed it onto the cash register.

Stan appeared. "Those are fifty cents now, Dipper."

"Grunkle Stan, I don't have another quarter. Also, I live here."

"Don't worry. Messin' with ya." Stan clapped a hand on Dipper's shoulder and ruffled his hair. Dipper tried to pat his hair into shape, disgruntled. Stan uncapped a marker with his teeth and crossed out twenty-five cents on the box of rings, and wrote fifty cents.

Dipper was ready a second before Angus was, and called out at the gift shop door. "In here, Angus," he said, as Angus was heading toward the private entrance. Angus waved and hopped onto the porch and came inside. Dipper asked, "How are you doing?"

"Good. I had a snack before I came out here." Angus hugged him.

Dipper took a bracing breath. "I have something to tell you." He held up the ring. "First, this inaccurate plastic spider ring is a—it's a promise. That I don't know what might happen between us, but what happens between us is between us, and—I lost my train of thought. Hang on while I get it back."

Angus hung on. His grip was shutting off circulation to Dipper's fingers. "What's happened? Why are you giving me a ring? Your tone of voice makes me think you're not asking me to go steady."

"We're already going steady. Aren't we? Look, I have to show you something. Can I have my hand back?"

Angus released his hand. With the fingertips of his other hand, Dipper held the spider ring. He turned his back to Angus, and plucked his shirt up his back.

Angus said, "She knows."

Dipper dropped the shirt and faced him again. "Yeah. She knows. This morning. You okay? You look pale."

"I'm pale because I'm a vampire." Angus had removed his shades. His eyes were large and puppy-dog sad. "You showed Mabel the tattoo." His voice sounded hollow, not accusatory.

"I didn't show her, but I didn't think, either; I slept with my shirt off, and she saw it from across the room. But whatever—Angus, don't look like that. Whatever happens—"

Angus turned partly away. "She knows?" he said faintly, as if Dipper had not begun to explain.

"Listen to me, Angus! That has nothing to do with us. Whatever happens with Mabel—"

"I've been afraid that when she found out ..." Angus faced Dipper again. "That as soon as she knew, you'd go with her. Only with her."

"I know. I know you've been afraid, I know how you feel. And I don't even know how she feels about it. She's probably pretty badly upset or she wouldn't have been gone all day. But I'm not going to let it affect you and me. That's what this ring is for. Okay? Okay, Angus? Put it on."

Angus worked the plastic ring onto his left forefinger.

"There." Dipper nodded. "That means that what happens between us is only between us. No other relationships in my life are going to break up this one. Do you understand?"

Angus put his arms around Dipper and leaned on him. "Yes. Thank you." He turned his head and after a moment he added, "Fifty cents. Big spender."

Dipper chuckled. "I bought it before the price hike." They shared a long hug. Dipper pulled back and took Angus by the hand. "Can you stay? Want to go up to the attic and read Sibling Brothers for a little while?"

Angus nodded and let himself be led. "Yeah."

Dipper sat in bed with Angus curled up against him. They read silently to themselves; when he reached the bottom of each page, Dipper would say, "Okay?"

Angus, reading over his shoulder, would reply, "Okay," and Dipper would turn the page.

After several pages Dipper realized that he wasn't really reading; he was running his eyes down the page and guessing how long it would take Angus to finish, then asking for his okay to turn the page. He stuck a bookmark where they had begun, to go back and catch up when he could concentrate on anything other than what Mabel was doing downstairs. What she was thinking, if anything. Maybe it would be better if she weren't thinking about him.

Angus gave Dipper's wrist a squeeze. Dipper hummed and leaned into him. They heard Grenda say goodbye at the door downstairs. Angus asked, "Walk me to the window?"

They held hands in front of the open stained glass window. Angus gave Dipper a kiss, and said, "Courage."

Angus slipped out the window. Dipper heard him drop to the back porch and a little later, Cherry Car starting up and driving off. Dipper closed the window. Mabel's footsteps were coming up the stairs.

********

Dipper sat on the edge of his bed.

Mabel sat on her bed, facing him. She held the toy monkey Dipper had given her. Grenda had brought her a gift of miniature pink and gold authentic Austrian epaulettes. Mabel adjusted them on the monkey's shoulders and fussed with the fringes. She asked, "How long?"

Dipper was relieved that Mabel had started the conversation. "Since that Christmas. When I was here alone, and then you came—and you stayed."

"You mean the Christmas when we were fourteen?"

"Yeah."

"Why did you keep it a secret for so long?" Mabel set the monkey on the bedding. "Why didn't you tell me? You got a secret tattoo! It took you three sessions to finish it. And you didn't tell me. Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I ..." Dipper trailed off, stunned. "Oh. Of course I trust you. I've made a big mistake. I never thought of it as not trusting you."

"Can I get in your bed."

"Yeah, yeah, of course, if you still want to."

"Why wouldn't I want to? Unless ... does it bother you? All the times I've gotten in bed with you since then ..."

"No, it's never bothered me."

"Oh, good." Mabel climbed into Dipper's bed. He stayed on the edge, giving her plenty of space, so when the mattress sank she wouldn't have to accidentally bump into him. "I thought I was imagining it. This morning. You were lying with your back to me, and the colored glass in the window was putting different colors on your back, and I was imagining patterns—at least, that's what I thought. Then I saw I wasn't imagining it at all." She asked again: "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know it would hurt you. I'm sorry."

"I want to know why."

"I just didn't ... didn't tell you. In the beginning. I had the feelings, and I didn't tell you, because, well, you know—you do that, but I kinda don't."

"I know that about you." Mabel made a few little bounces and settled into a cross-legged position. "But it's been all this time. If you needed to make a plan for telling me, you must have figured it out by now."

"It's not that. I want you to know I didn't plan to keep it a secret at first. I just kept it in, and felt it. Felt really strongly about you. It got too big for me to—well, to share."

"Too big to share with me?"

Dipper groaned. He took a long pause. "I didn't want to put those big feelings out where you could see them. It would have hurt you so much to break my heart, and I thought I couldn't do that to you. I never thought of it as being about trust. I thought it might help me to have your name in a tattoo, but then I thought, if you found out ... you might be offended and ask me to have it covered up. Inked over."

"No! I would never do that." Mabel tapped him reproachfully on the knee. She struck a pose with her fingers behind her ear and batted her eyelashes. "If anybody asked, I would tell them you just adored me that much."

Dipper looked into her eyes. "I do." He hesitated, made a couple of false starts, wrung his fingers. "I considered ordering a gold chain like one of Grunkle Stan's, with a gold pendant in the shape of your name."

"That is awesome and I insist that you do that as soon as you possibly can."

Dipper laughed—a short, hysterical laugh cut off in a cough. "Can you forgive me? For keeping this secret from you."

Mabel let out a little sigh. "I forgive you."

Dipper sagged on the side of the bed, dropped his shoulders, and let his hands droop down off his knees. "Thank you."

"I kind of already forgave you, at Grenda's. I just wanted to make sure we got everything straightened out."

"Okay. And did we? Is everything straightened out?"

Mabel got up on her knees on the mattress, with her back to him. "I'm going to show you something." She reached back and rolled up the hem of her shirt. "I asked Marius to do it for me. He has the best handwriting. But I didn't check with you first. We used washable marker. It'll come right off when I shower. I didn't want anything permanent on my skin, and then if it made you mad I could just wash it off really quick."

On the small of her back, in many colors of marker, was the Big Dipper. "Dipper and Mabel" was written in thick letters in elegant script in the cup of the dipper.

Dipper gazed dizzily, and swallowed.

"Are you okay with it?" Mabel looked over her shoulder, quirked her lip in a small wince. "Is it too much?"

"Mabel." Dipper whispered. "Can I touch it?"

"Yeah, I don't know if it'll smear, but sure."

Dipper touched with only the tip of his finger, one spot for one star at a time, without drawing a finger across the skin, so his touch wouldn't smear it.

"You can kiss me there, if you want."

"Mabel, if I kiss you on that drawing things are going to get very embarrassing, very fast." He cleared his throat and coughed politely into his hand. "At the risk of sounding creepy ... is there any chance you'd let me get a photo of it?"

Mabel giggled. "At the risk of sounding even creepier, Marius already took a couple of photos for me. I asked him to. I'll show them to you, if you want."

"Yes, please."

Mabel hopped up. "One second."

Dipper remembered Angus's quiet exhortation to courage, tried to find wherever his courage-sticking-place was in his confused, woozy, and fearful insides, and gathered himself together. "I have to ask you something."

Mabel was rummaging in her purse. "What is it?"

Dipper winced and rubbed the back of his neck. "Will you go on a date with me?"

Mabel dropped her purse. "Why didn't you do it this way in the first place? Of course I'll go on a date with you."

"Mabel, I'm so honored, you have no idea."

She climbed back into Dipper's bed and sat on his pillow. "You could give me some idea. You could give me a little kiss."

"Wha—uh, I—well, what if Argyle doesn't like me kissing you? He's already jealous of me."

"Argyle knows I kiss other boys. I will talk with him and let him know that other boys also means my brother, now. Unless you want to be the one to talk to him."

"No, definitely not. You can talk to your own boyfriend, yourself."

Mabel followed Dipper's face with her eyes as he leaned in and shyly kissed her on the temple. He stayed there for a moment, the breath from his nose ruffling the fine hair over her ear. He made a slight, unintentional grasping motion and Mabel put her hand in his. Dipper kissed her warm cheek. After some time sitting perfectly still, he nuzzled her cheek, then slowly he sat back on his heels.

They were quiet for a minute, two minutes. She gave him an encouraging look, and he ran his thumb over her fingers and looked down at the bed. Mabel said, "Is that all you want to do? You know you can do more than that."

"I want to. You know I want to."

She gave his fingers a tug. "Feeling a little shy there, huh, bro-bro?"

"You kiss boys on the lips all the time. What if it turns out that I'm the worst at kissing? Angus seems to enjoy me kissing him, but what if he's only being polite? Or what if I'm only good at kissing vampires? What if Angus isn't being polite, and vampires just really like bad kisses? What if ... what if you don't like the way I kiss?"

Mabel placed the pad of her thumb just below Dipper's lower lip. "You're not really only talking about kissing, are you?"

Dipper took her hand and held it in his lap. He made a sound that was almost a sob. "You know everything now."

Mabel moved off the pillow and sat closer to him. "But I kinda did before. I knew you loved me. You made sure I always knew that. I didn't know that you felt romantic about me. That you're in love with me." She pushed his bangs up with her fingers and touched the star freckles one by one with her thumb. Her brow knit. "I can always tell what you're feeling by looking at you. But you kept this a secret. Are you too shy to kiss me because of normal, you know, you stuff? Or are you holding back because you're ashamed of me?" She looked into his eyes and gave him a worried frown. "Because I'm your sister."

"No. You being my sister is ... I'm so proud that you're my sister. That will never be a problem for me."

"Oh, good. Good." Mabel pulled Dipper into a hug. He rested his chin on her shoulder. She reached under his T-shirt and rubbed his back lightly, moving her hand up and down along the tattoo with her name in it. He had not realized how badly he needed her to give him that touch. She said, "I'm sure I'm gonna love how you kiss me. Put out the lantern and let's kiss each other on the lips for a couple of hours."

********

Dipper went back to the tattoo shop and had Mabel's name colored in permanently, in pink.

_The End_


End file.
